


The Master At Work

by VanStock1992



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Smidge OOC, BDSM, Branding, Breeding, Curses, Dubious Consent, F/M, Figging, I've been informed more OOC than initially intended, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Marriage, OOC Behavior Explained By Plot, Oral Sex, Platonic Life Partners, Punishment, Religion, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship, underage romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 16:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 37
Words: 109,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22499044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanStock1992/pseuds/VanStock1992
Summary: In the aftermath of the second wizarding war, Hermione finds herself in desperate need of guidance, relief, absolution and purpose. And Hogwarts potions Master is just the man for the job. Involved in a faith that blurs lines of right and wrong, will she be able to reconcile with what must be done to save her life?Draco makes a mistake that cannot be undone and must rise to the occasion, leading him into a life with two different love stories. One bliss and one bitter sweet. To do right by the witches he loves, he will have to learn to accept the pain of caring for others.And what kind of life does the minister of magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, have outside of war and Wizarding politics?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Astoria Greengrass, Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 352
Kudos: 384





	1. Absolution

The Master At Work

Chapter 1

It had been fifteen minutes since Hermione Jean Granger had locked into a spot on the front wall of her potions classroom. She had obtained the appropriate color for her blood replenishing potion - which the board read was all they should do for the day - and placed it under stasis before zoning out entirely. From his desk in the front of the very same room, Severus Snape had started to play a little game with himself. It was simple, to most it would appear tedious, but he only became more enthralled with his time wasting method the longer it went on.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten._

Miss Granger blinked.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten._

Her lashes fluttered up and down once more.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten._

She kept the meticulous pattern going for the last stretch of his seventh year potions class. Similar to the method in which she had pushed her food around her plate at each meal in the great hall, Hermione meticulously maintained her pace. Every count was precise, perfected and produced for the sole purpose of blending in to her surroundings. While the students that hustled through the halls of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry were no longer as innocent and carefree as those that came in the years before them, each one of them seemed to be having an easier time molding themselves back into the role of student than the girl in front of him.

“Miss Granger,” Snape spoke up over the shuffling of students and supplies as class time came to an end. “You shall stay to complete your potion. I am sure you do not need my instruction.”

Her neck snapped from it’s fixed place to focus on him, and Severus could feel the ache in his own aging muscles. Hermione gave him an equally curt nod, and retrieved her wand to pull her cauldron out of stasis. “Yes, Professor.”

She did not hesitate.

She did not gape or protest the inequality of his instruction.

She did not demand answers, motives or explanations to earn her usually costly cooperation.

The unrelenting, know-it-all, Potter’s-personal-puttering-pocketguide so easily relented, demanded no clarification and was at last - from where Severus Snape stood - Harry Potter free. Hermione Granger had made it through the first potions class of her academic career without raising her hand to wave it about like a taunting phrase in a school corridor. Far too distracting to block out but obnoxious to engage with. As it was, Severus had long since decided that the highly intelligent, bushy haired, brains over beauty witch had always demonstrated great potential. Attention to detail, desire to learn and a fair amount of endurance could get a witch or wizard quite far in the two _occupations_ that Severus deemed himself qualified to teach. Both served as a method to establish a great deal of control over one's domain, provided thousands of hours of stimulating reading material and could give those struggling with where to place themselves in the magical world a perfect pocket of unquestionable purpose.

It was that very potential, he would tell himself in the years that followed, that led him to take an interest in the member of the golden trio. And until his dying day, he would be unsure if that was a lie.

Across the room, Hermione continued stirring the final ingredients into her brew. Much like how she shuffled her meals around her plate, the movements she used were well contained and calculated. She’d never been a student he worried about sloshing solutions about her workspace, and that day was no exception. His gaze remained fixed on her work, pleased when she completed the last several steps and settled back in her chair for the hour long wait until the potion would be complete. Immediately, she found her previous spot on the front wall and returned to her meticulously timed blinking.

“Miss Granger, what do you intend to do after graduation?” He asked, direct and to the point.

Once more, she turned her attention to him without hesitation. “I haven’t decided, Professor.”

 _Good._ He pretended to consider that for a moment, reclining back in his leather chair. “What are you considering? Perhaps a career in-” _Something she wouldn't be able to stand…_ “-divination? Even those as untalented as yourself are permitted to sort prophecies or maintain records. On a secretarial level, of course.”

To his surprise, she did not revolt. “Of course,” The girl nodded in agreement, letting his words pass through her without appearing to have been disturbed by their intrusion. “I must confess, Professor, that up until now I had not given my career prospects much thought. With all that was happening they seemed quite unimportant. Perhaps even overly optimistic.”

It was all as he had figured, and he prepared himself for the speech he had given only a select few students over his teaching career. While he pondered where to begin with this particular prospective potions apprentice, he studied her. Her mouth twitched on the seven count, her blinks remained timed on the ten and on the twenty-six mark, she pulled down her right sleeve with her left hand. The seam of her robe that intended to rest on her shoulder had been pulled half way down her upper arm creating a slouchy, sloppy and all around careless appearance that did not reflect her desperate grasp for control.

 _Unless…_ Snape considered for a moment, hesitant to think such a thing. Instead, he stood and crossed the room, watching the girl flinch when he approached her too rapidly and making an effort to slow his pace. Without asking, grabbing her around the wrist before she could tug out of his reach, he yanked the fabric up above her elbow and turned her wrist to face the ceiling. _Bloody hell._

Written in a lazy script he had been unfortunately familiar with was a slur he never wished to hear again. “Mudblood…” He whispered, unaware that he had said it aloud. The edges of Bellatrix LeStrange’s carving were still fresh, bleeding as if they were hours old instead of months. Severus ran his finger tips over the sliced skin, and the girl winced at the pull against the tender cursed flesh. But it was not the long rumored mark that furrowed his dark brow, pursed his lips out of visibility and brought a red hue to his line of vision. That was accomplished by the hundred self inflicted slices through the girl’s nearly translucent skin, all in various stages of bleeding, sealing, scabbing, being picked at, scabbing over a second time and finally settling in to thick jagged scars that marked her alabaster skin.

“Professor, I-” The words caught in her throat and he held up a hand to suggest her silence.

His fingers unclenched eventually and he stepped back, opting to rub one temple until he could resist the urge to scream. Snape exerted more control than it had taken to occlude from The Dark Lord simply to unhinge his locked jaw. “Miss Granger, stand.”

Hesitantly, fiddling with the fingers on her other hand, the girl raised from her stool and looked at the worn potions counters to avoid his gaze.

“I need you to look at me, Miss Granger.” His voice remained steady despite the nervous thrumming in his chest. “Are there more?” A light bobbing of her head confirmed what he feared and Severus held the curse words back despite their temptation to leave his tongue. “I need you to remove your robes.”

Large brown eyes met his, and they were filled with tears, but she obeyed. The girl shrugged from her uniform, folded it meticulously and placed it on the stool she’d chosen for class. When she straightened herself, Severus took in the girl. Both arms, up to and likely past the elbow length sleeves of her uniform blouse, were carved nearly beyond recognition.

For the second time he asked. “Are there more?” And once again, she nodded. “Alright, Miss Granger. I need you to remove your blouse, skirt and hosiery. It is imperative that I know the extent of the damage, unless you wish to bring this information to Madam Pomfrey’s attention.” Snape kicked himself as soon as the words came out more of a threat than the genuine offer that he had intended.

Streaks cascaded down her cheeks and she took her time, pushing each button back through its hole until her blouse was open, revealing a similarly marred navel region, chest and ribcage. The button down fell from her shoulders and she folded it just as delicately as she had handled her robes before her shaking hands found the zipper on the side of her skirt. Hermione stepped out of her skirt, and pulled her black tights off as well, turning them right side out as a manner of buying time while Severus studied her undergarment-clad form. Only the unreachable or impossible to cover regions of her form had been spared from the blade.

Snape resolved not to make a fool out of either of them by asking why. By the flush brought to her hollow cheeks, he knew very well her reasons. “I am assuming by the sheer number of marks you have that this is a daily occurrence.” He stated, intentionally forming a statement instead of a question. She did not correct him. Any instrument a student had at their disposal to inflict such damage was not properly sterilized and his own skin crawled with the thought of what bacteria lived within her wounds waiting to become a deadly infection. Walking to his cabinet instead of summoning the brew, giving himself a minute to regain his composure, Severus Snape fetched a selection of vials before returning to her station. He uncapped them, poured each into a goblet for a final combination and outstretched his arm to where the girl stood

“Drink.”

Without question, she downed the cup of potions and handed the vessel back to him. She did not wince at the bitter flavor and left a drip of the potion trailing down her mouth for moment.

“You may wipe your face, Miss Granger.” Severus offered and she gave him a grateful look before brushing the mess off with her thumb. They stood in silence, her gaze fixed on the table top and his on her mutilated body. Several times, he nearly found the words, before losing them and having to start again. On two sides of a war, his instincts and his good sense fought one another.

_She needs this._

**_Oh you’d love if she did, you bloody pervert._ **

_It’s not about me._

**_You make everything about you, you selfish prick._ **

_The girl has lost control of the situation._

**_Why should she give that control to you?_ **

_There is no other choice._

**_They always have a choice._ **

_Not if she wishes to live._

**_At least, we can agree on._ **

Snape cleared his throat, breaking the stretching silence. “This needs to stop, Miss Granger. I’m sure you know that.”

“Yes, Professor. I do know.” By the look on her face, both ashamed and exhausted, the girl had known for some time. “I have tried.”

 _And failed._ He finished her admission. “Are you punishing yourself or are you releasing torment you don’t believe you can contain?”

Miss Granger pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down, thankfully not hard enough to draw blood. “Both, I believe, Professor. At different times. Often one turns into the other.”

“Do you have any reasons or intentions, today, to inflict harm upon your person?”

“Yes.”

He nodded along with her. “I appreciate your honesty in these matters, Miss Granger. May I ask which one it is today?”

This time, she hesitated. Her mouth opened, revealing her now only slightly oversized front teeth, shut as a puzzled look crossed her face and opened once more. “A punishment, Professor.”

Severus let out a long breath. “Do you find yourself feeling _absolved_ when you punish yourself, Miss Granger?”

She winced, then shook her head as he expected her to do. “No, Professor.”

“Then I am quite sure you realize that your system is not working, but you are unsure how to replace it.” Severus set down the cup he had been holding, circled the table to her side and reminded himself that he already damned to eternal torment, no matter how he chose to proceed. But her soul - despite the marks received from her own defacement - could still be saved. And as much as he told himself that he wished someone else could do that for her, he was at least marginally thrilled at the prospect of offering her what he had long since decided was the most honorable form of salvation. “I ask, Miss Granger, if you would consider a less orthodox solution to this problem of yours. Though, I must selfishly admit, it would solve one of my own current predicaments.”

“What do you mean, Professor?” Hermione’s voice shook and he cursed the tug against the fabric of his trousers. “What predicament?”

He reached a hand out to her, brushing his fingertips over her carved flesh. “There are those of us with _inclinations_ that deviate from the typical desires of witches and wizards. For example, I enjoy providing witches with discipline as well as an avenue for those witches to find relief from their need to control. This is something I would be willing and quite interested in providing you, Miss Granger. And as it appears, you are in need of absolution.”

Tears returning with full force, her previously hesitant breaths grew heavier. “What will happen if I deny you, Professor?”

The wizard would not fain hurt at her fearful inquiry that implied he was some type of predatory monster. Though he had never planned before that day to proposition a student, there he was with a nearly naked Gryffindor in his classroom. “The same thing that would happen should you agree and this does not remedy the situation,” He bored his eyes into hers, attempting to be reassuring while promising her nightmares. “I will have to obliviate you and turn information of your self harm in to the proper channels. In the past, I have reported these things to both the head of house and the infirmary, as well as to any guardians a student may have. Since you are an adult witch, only the former would apply. Both Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey would treat the information with the utmost discretion while still doing what they must with it. You need not worry for your reputation or let it weigh your decision. Though it may come off as disappointment, I assure you that they will only be concerned for your wellbeing. Do you understand what I am telling you, Miss Granger?”

Her curls shook. “Not entirely.”

In a rare moment of tenderness, he took each of her soft hands in his own calloused mitts, giving what he hoped would be a reassuring squeeze. “I am telling you that you always have a choice in your own fate. The choices may not be as varied as you’d like, but they are yours. Should you choose to surrender some of that choice to me, I believe you would find it rewarding, but it is still your decision Miss Granger. Tell me now, what would you like to do? If only for today?”

Hermione’s throat twitched as she swallowed and for a moment he regretted the simple reality that his smile would _not_ soothe the girl. Even with the utmost intended sincerity, it often displayed itself as a sneer. “What would you do to me, Professor? What… what would happen?”

_Thank Merlin…_

**_Shut up, you disgusting pervert!_ **

“This first time, I would sit down in my chair then you would kneel at my feet and ask for punishment. You would answer my questions regarding why you required this punishment then I would place you over my lap, and strike you with my hand quite firmly.” It took great focus to keep his words strictly informational.

She flinched at the latter part of the sentence and pursed her own lips. “How many times, Professor? Would you hi- umm strike me, I mean...”

Severus dropped her hands gently, instead brushing a lock of hair out of her face and using his handkerchief to wipe the tears from her face. “As many times as is required. It varies between various offenses and individual witches. I suspect you did not receive corporal punishment growing up?”

“No, Professor.” Hermione answered and nodded her head. “I’d prefer that you to punish me than for you to tell anyone else. That is my decision.”

“Miss Granger, I must will you to understand that neither path you choose will be easy. Overcoming this affliction of yours will require work on yourself and great personal sacrifice.” He wished his words could be more reassuring than foreboding, but he would not lie to the young witch. “And this path - the path with me - will be painful. There will be times when you wonder how much more you can stand, and I will just be warming you up. As time passes, there are things I will ask of you that you must endure if you wish to maintain our arrangement. Things you never would have considered. Profound sacrifices of your body, mind and soul. Nothing I ask of you will be optional. It will be phrased as a demand, but make no mistake, you will retain the ability to be obliviated and pursue the alternate path. You shall consider every demand as the following question; ‘Is this task a price I am willing to pay to become the best version of myself?’ and you shall answer with your obedience. Do you still choose to proceed?”

A moment passed and she picked at the skin of her nail beds. “Ye- I choo- Umm I wish to proceed.”

**_Damn you! Run, you stupid chit!_ **

_Enjoy this. You’ve earned it._

Severus Snape lowered his voice, speaking with as much comforting authority as he could muster while still experiencing such shock and delight. “While we are alone you will call me Master and look me in the eyes, Miss Granger. I shall ask you again. Do you still wish to proceed?”

She slowly raised her chin, her lower lip trembling, until her doe eyes met his flat black. “I w-w-wish to p-p-p-proceed, Master.” 

In response, he dipped his own head down, lifted her right hand to his lips and gave the back a light kiss. “Very well. Follow me.” His erection strained and struggled against his zipper as he brought her through the door from his classroom into his office. Snape pulled out his leather chair, transfigured it both non verbally and without his wand to shed its arm rests and sat himself down.

For a moment, the girl froze and he took a deep breath to remind himself to be patient. As he was sure her dentist muggle parents did not made demanding orders if they didn’t use corporal punishment while she was growing up, so nerves were to be expected. “Kneel.” Severus tried to make it sound like a gentle reminder.

“Right. I’m sorry.” She whispered, and climbed onto her knees on the floor between his legs. “Will you please do me the great honor of punishing me, Master?”

_I’ll give you the great honor of drowning in my cum if you aren’t careful, little witch._

**_Shut up! What is wrong with you?_ **

Snape cleared his throat. “What have you done to earn a punishment at my hand, Miss Granger?”

“I… well I… I survived the war while others did not and I still allow myself to be unhappy.” Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and let her eyes fall from his. “And my body is ugly, Master, because I covered it in marks.”

At her confession, he clenched his jaw shut to refrain from yelling. “Miss Granger, unless you are requesting to be _kicked_ by my steel toe, dragon hide boots, then I suggest you look me in the eyes while you make this request. I would also recommend that you identify the proper reason you require punishment.”

When her flooded gaze met his own, she shook her head. “I don’t know the answer, Master.”

“Fine,” Snape growled. “This time I will tell you. You require punishment because you defaced the healthy body that has done nothing but serve you in all of your endeavours. You also will be punished for slandering your vessel. I find it quite beautiful, and as your master my word is law. You are also being punished because you are not caring for your mind by torturing yourself into being ashamed. After all that you’ve been through, it would be astonishing for you to not find yourself in emotional turmoil. Do you agree with these points, Miss Granger?”

She nodded slightly, red with shame like a chastised child.

“Alright, put yourself over my lap.” Severus leaned back as the young witch stretched over him. She was too light for his taste, and he suspected that had something to do with stirring her meals instead of eating them. He traced over her back, a blank canvas of unmarked alabaster, and envisioned where he may one day place his mark. The elastic band of her plain white knickers, which were standard uniform issue, and he eased a finger under the band on each side as he pulled it down to her knees. Her ass was the same beautiful smooth skin, save the tiny mole on her upper right side that he could not resist giving a gentle pinch. “I am going to strike you now, Miss Granger. I expect you to count along with me and properly thank me for each spanking. We will go until I feel you are adequately punished for such an egregious offense. Do you understand?”

“Yes Master.” She shook slightly, a fearful sob that she couldn’t stifle ripping through her chest.

He raised an eyebrow before continuing. “And are you still confident in your decision?”

This time, her voice did not waver. In fact, if Severus had not known any better, he would have believed she was serene. “Yes, Master.”

“Alright then. Let us get on with it.” Snape settled her down in the most stable spot and raised his right hand to just above his head before bringing it down with _thwack!_ that echoed through the entire small chamber.

The witch whose body laid across his own yelped at the attack on her person, before gasping out a hesitant. “One. Thank you, Master.”

Again, he raised his hand and brought it down swiftly against her burning cheeks. _Thwack!_

“Ahhmm.” Hermione yelled shyly into the crook of her arm. “Two. Thank you, Master.”

Three more brutal hits fell onto her tender reddening skin, covering the perky ass entirely so no spot was safe from his bruising assault. _Thwack!_ He let out a breath, and shifted to readjust his nearly painful erection.

“Seven. Thank you, Master.” She responded, her throat raw with tears, and then Hermione lost her nerve. Much to his displeasure, she reached behind and placed her hands between his own and her tender bottom. “Please, Master, I can’t take this. It hurts.”

“Good.” Severus growled and yanked her hands out of the way, muttering an incantation that caused them to feel so heavy they pulled her arms towards the floor. “Punishments are _supposed_ to be painful, Miss Granger. And you would do well never reach back like that ever again, do you understand? If I was using anything but my palm I could have broken every bone in your hands. There is as reason I’m striking your bottom. It’s fleshy,” He gripped a chunk of her sore muscle and gave it a squeeze. “and can take the impact. No matter what you’ve convinced yourself. Are you ready to proceed, Miss Granger? There will be no more breaks or interruptions.”

Hesitantly, she nodded and went limp with defeat. “Yes Master. I’m ready.”

_Thwack!_

“Eight…”

_Thwack!_

_“Fifteen…”_

_THWACK!!!_

“Twenty…”

They worked their way through up to twenty, and he delivered ten last brutal swats to her sit spot with no time for her to count or thank him. Her screams assaulted his inner ear and the spread of purple bruising across her bottom would not stop forming until the next day. His trousers were drenched with her mucus and tears that flowed down her face as she gasped for air.

“Breathe carefully, Miss Granger.” He warned, and summoned a small tub of oils from his desk drawer that he unscrewed the cap on and spread across her rump. “This should soothe you. If you’d like, I can give you a potion to quicken the healing process but that is entirely optional. I must say, it pleases me to see you like this. Spread across my lap and at my mercy…” Snape made quick work of the job, deciding that he would enjoy it much more slowly next time. She was far too tender. Instead he released her hands from their weighed bindings, shifted her body to straddle his own and _accioed_ the blanket he kept folded on his guest chairs for the cold winter nights in the dungeons. Severus unfolded it and wrapped it around Hermione, rubbing her back and whispering soothing nothings into her ear while she shook with violent sobs.

“I… I hate myself. There were so many I didn’t save because I was too focused on my own needs.” She choked, wiping snot on the shoulder of his robes. “And now I’ve ruined your clothes. I can’t get anything right. I’m such a bloody fuck up.”

His hand traced more circles on her back and he brought us lips to her ears. “Hush now, Miss Granger, before you say something so cruel about yourself that I must punish you for that also.” Snape ignored her forgotten address, as he always did during the turmoil of aftercare, and rocked her gently. “Would it make you feel better if I told you how lovely you are to me when you cry?”

“Why?” She paused, unsure of his words, and he simply rubbed her back more firmly until she relented once more to her breathtaking tears. When he felt she could hold herself together without shattering into a mess on the floor, he pulled her a bit back away from him. Her red swollen eyes and cheeks were damp with never ending tears and her nose continued to run, which she wiped away with the handkerchief he didn’t remember putting in her possession.

“When you are vulnerable, you are submitting to me entirely and trusting me to fulfill your needs. You require pain and have entrusted me to deliver it.” Severus brushed her hair back with his hands and twisted it into a bun on top of her head that he secured with an incantation under his breath. “Submission is gorgeous and so are you. How do you feel now, Miss Granger? Do you believe this exercise was beneficial to you?”

Reluctantly, and much to his internal delight, Hermione nodded having only lowered her gaze for a moment before remembering to look him in the eyes. “I feel… better I think. Not good, my bum feels like it’s been treated to a dozen bludgers, but better than I did before.”

Severus pouted dramatically, pondering her admission. “Does that mean you wish to continue. Not today, since you need your rest, but tomorrow?”

“What-“ The young witch stuttered, her nose still stuffed shut. “What would I have to do tomorrow?”

“Such a smart girl…” He mused with admiration. Hermione Granger knew not to make any bargain without all possibly important information. “You would come to me following your last class of the day and kneel in my office until I am ready to receive you. Then, should you have a mental log of the offenses that you must repent for, you will confess them to me on your knees for which I will provide appropriate punishment. Once we have finished with your punishment and soothing, we will talk. The two of us will need to spend quite a lot of time talking, Miss Granger. Given all that, would you like to continue this tomorrow?”

“I would, Master.”

“Alright then.” Snape rocked her back and forth in his chair while she rested against him and whispered praises in her virgin ears. When her cries turned to soft breaths of sleep, he found his own spot on the far wall to fix his gaze. If Severus could play his cards correctly, the young witch could one day be his. 


	2. His Pet

He had sent the girl away before curfew with a reading assignment that was short enough for her to devour it before she presented herself to him next. It was a noticeably thin book, that would have made a particularly long parchment, which made it ideal for a short and sweet educational assignment. Snape had left her bruises soothed, but did not heal them, instead deciding that when she didn’t answer his question he would allow her to experience fully what returning to him the next evening would mean. Hermione’s smooth light skin would be shadowed and swollen according to her offenses and Severus hoped that as she struggled to sit comfortably in her chairs for the rest of the day, she would remember that she had been forgiven for her crimes by the only ones she owed answers to - her master and herself.

Professor Snape had two morning classes, one in the afternoon and a grading period before the girl would be released from her four hour post lunch transfiguration workshop. Minvera had been thrilled she had enough students this year - due to the nearly doubled seventh year class - to run such a seminar. Once she had finished talking his ear off, he had inquired as to how she planned on being both headmistress, head of Gryffindor and the transfiguration professor. The answer, of course, involved a large color coded schedule she had enlisted Miss Granger to create and a time turner belonging to the same girl. Sacrifices had to be made in times of war and the period of recovery afterwards.

As it was, at leastly quarter past five that evening, there was a shy knock at the door that brought a smile across Severus Snape’s thin lips. “Come in,” He offered, knowing it would be his little witch.

She entered, her head bowed, and began to strip down to her underthings. Severus watched her, following the fluid movement of her young taught muscles and flexible joints, and imagined her as a sculpture made of marble. There were dark spells to do such things like turning beautiful girls into art to be appreciated and _owned_ for the rest of eternity. In fact, most of what remained nose and armless in the ruins of Greece and Rome were actually muggles and witches that had been transformed for the viewing pleasure of man. Snape had often wondered if they could feel any longer, watching centuries turn to millenia and pass before their open stone eyes. And he had written several published papers on the ethical implications of removing such spells and allowing them to rapidly age to dust. Could wizard kind rob the world of their eternal beauty on the speculation that they may still live within their marble forms? He’d thought not.

As it was not his choice to make, Severus put the thought back out of his mind and instead narrowed in on the change of material covering Miss Granger’s more intimate regions. Her uniform issued garments had been replaced with black lace and the lingerie was most likely french. He did have experience ordering those types of gifts for paramores and submissives..

“Did you wear this for me, Miss Granger?”

Her eyes peaked up at him when she finished her meticulous exercise of folding her uniform and placing it on his guest chair. “Yes, Master. I wanted to be worthy of you.”

“If that is what you wish, then continue.” He pushed his chair back from his desk, turned to the side and waited for Miss Granger to kneel before him. Hermione climbed to the ground further away that he would have liked, but made it up to him in the sensual crawl between his legs that she used to cross the stone floors. Even when she winced, her delicate points and edges cutting into the floors, she did not remove her eyes from his. It was a confidence he wished to see on the girl’s face all of the time, so while on her knees was a good start. If Hermione could remain poised while being demeaned and degraded, she would certainly blossom into a witch any wizard would admire.

“Master,” Her uneasy breaths interrupted the flow and he reached out to caress her cheek. “I have committed crimes against my body today. Will you please punish me to rid me of this shame?”

His black eyes traced up and down her body, looking for something new or particularly disturbing harm to her skin, and came up short. “Show me, little witch, what you have done.” Hermione nodded to him, lifted her palms towards the ceiling and placed them in his own hands for inspection. Each of them bore four bloody curved dashes along her heartline and he frowned at them. “Did you do this with your nails, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, Master.”

Severus brushed his thumb over the cuts, peeling the flesh apart to judge their depth, and muttered a spell to clean and seal them off until they could heal themselves. “Were these intentional?”

“Not at all, Master.” A tear fell from her doe eyes her bottom lip quivered. “I was angry at myself again and I clenched my fists too hard for too long. Before I knew what I had done, I was bleeding.”

“Ahh.” The potions master remarked, allowing her to take back her hands. “You still did commit a crime in anger as intent means nothing to me. You are going to receive sixteen lashes, with my belt this time. That is two for each mark you created but I do not wish for you to count. Instead, you are going to tell me when the pain had dissipated between each. Up you go.”

Her body snaked up his own and draped over his lap. He held her at an awkward angle while he reached down to his trousers, unbuckled his belt and curled it into a loop in his fist. Severus situated the young witch in place, mindful of where her legs may kick so she wouldn’t hurt herself, and rested a reassuring hand on her upper back. “You are quite alright, Miss Granger. Never fear your own peace. It is the best gift the light will ever give you.”

Unlike most things, the exercise started off more quickly than it ended. When he drew the belt to her flesh for the first time, she gasped and grit her teeth but told him to continue after less than ten seconds had passed. Snape happily did, but after the second, third, fourth, and fifth strikes with the now warmed leather on her even hotter red bottom, she was taking time between each lash to sob. He knew that her tender flesh, purple and bruised from the day before, was making even the most merciful of his blows feel like a red hot branding iron. By the fourteenth, her nails were dug into his skin and she fought him slightly, not wanting to be let go as much as she wanted the agony to end.

“Hush now, little witch. We are almost there. Are you ready?” Snape whispered near her ear, and she shook with sobs over his thighs.

“Ye-yes, Master.” The girl gasped. “Quickly please.”

Severus nodded knowingly, seeing the witch at the edge of her endurance. “Of course, Miss Granger. I aim to please.” He smirked, then delivered the last two of her set right over the worst of her bruising but in quick succession. Hermione wailed, and he wrapped her up in a blanket while he started to rock. “See, it was no big deal. And you did so well. Do you feel that, Miss Granger?”

Hermione peered up at him through her dark wet eyelashes. “Feel what? The bruising on my arse?”

He chuckled, enjoying the challenging wit of the witch he had chosen. “No dear, that you will have for only a moment in the grand scheme of your life. I am talking about your _freedom._ Freedom from blaming yourself… Do you have any questions for me about your reading assignment, Miss Granger?” Severus Snape learned back in his chair, trying to let the witch shivering and sniffling in his lap reach her own ease. “I’d like you to ask them now if you could.”

“Yes Ma- Master.” Hermione stuttered over the term. “That’s actually part of my first question. The book says that masters have slaves and I- I don’t know if I wish to be a _slave._ ” The word came off her lips filthy and shameful and she flushed a deep crimson, looking down to the book in her lap for reassurance. “I do enjoy my freedom very much, as you’ve said.”

Severus pondered this for a moment, tilting his head from side to side as he thought. He could have simply told her the truth - that he enjoyed the title because he had earned his mastery of potions and and yet every idiot student insisted on calling him professor _-_ but he allowed for her lapse in ability to read his mind. Not everyone was a Legilimens. “Very well then. Do tell me, what _do_ you find you wish to be?”

She tugged her lip inside her mouth between the top and bottom rows of teeth and he wanted nothing more than to pluck it from her grasp. “I didn’t find any terms in this book that fit me entirely. There were several that I could identify with pieces of but nothing that stood out as, well, _me_. I’m sure I sound rather foolish.”

“No no no, you are quite alright.” He tried to soothe her. “Those are merely examples, Miss Granger. And while there _are_ rules to this you’ll be happy to know much else is open to individual preference. Or the preference of the pairing, I should say. So think for me. Think very hard with that brilliant mind of yours. Remember books you’ve read, muggle films you’ve seen and pet names you’re fond of. Come up with a title for yourself of who you wish to be in relation to me, your dominant. Now I cannot promise that what you wish of me will be something I can agree to but I certainly am willing to negotiate through this process with you. Is that agreeable to you, Miss Granger.”

She nodded and lowered her eyes. The girl had reverting to hiding like a child.

_Patience, Severus. Let her learn._

“Are there any that come to mind right away or would you like some time?” He pressed.

“Perhaps.” Hermione let out a hard sigh, and shifted around in her seat. “I don’t have a title, per say, but I have a vision of sorts if that’s alright.”

Severus nodded, hoping she would continue. “Of course.”

“You said before - yesterday I should say - that I am intelligent and capable.” The teen witch flushed and chewed her inner cheek. “Upon further reflection, I do agree. And that’s a very integral part of my identity that I’d wish to carry over. I wish to follow you but I am still me. I can still think for myself, even if I do not act on it.”

“I would expect nothing less. My intention was never to belittle your accomplishments or restrict your potential. What I hope to do is assist you in rising higher than ever before.” He assured her.

Her lips pulled up into a hesitant smile. “Thank you. Umm… do you remember what else you said? About how seeing me in tears was pleasing to you?”

“I do not make a habit of speaking so pointlessly as to not remember what I’ve said.”

“Right,” Hermione shook her head. “Gosh, I’m terrible at this.”

“You’re doing fine.”

“I find that I want to _please_ you, Professor.” She swallowed noticeably and strummed her fingers on the edge of the chair.

_Damn lucky bastard…_

“Miss Granger,” Severus cleared his throat. “Am I correct in concluding that you wish to submit to me sexually?” She nodded hesitantly, her nearly chronic blush remaining. “That is something we could certainly discuss as time goes on. For now I would prefer for you to please me by learning how to properly care for yourself and allowing me to do what you cannot. Your wellbeing takes priority over pleasures of the flesh.”

She raised a light eyebrow at his phrasing but nodded. “I understand. Thank you, Master.” Hermione steadied herself with slow breaths, and again Snape counted.

_Inhale; one, two, three, four, five._

_Exhale; five, four, three, two, one._

He settled in to study her coping mechanism and cloaked his own surprise that this particular method was not inherently harmful. In fact, the girl knowing how to self soothe allowed him to alter the course of his lessons to increase their speed. That would prove to be quite useful given that he could hardly ignore the aching organ that strained against the closures of his trousers.

**_Help her, you revolting cradle robber!_ **

Snape let out a deep sigh on her exhale and crossed his legs beneath her to restrain his growing erection. “Do you feel your soul has been thoroughly cleansed?”

“Yes, Master.” Hermione winced as she shifted in her chair.

“And did my punishment fit your offense?” He nodded towards the sealed gouges on the palms and she girl bowed her head in agreement. “Then you are quite ready to begin your first lesson. Come now, follow me.” Severus stood and the girl mimicked him, her shoes tapping on the ancient cobblestone floors of the dungeon only paces behind his own. He led her through a doorway, down a short flight of stairs, right, left and then back up again. Snape snickered tomorrow himself thinking of what the girl may have decided he would be doing to her, but even a know-it-all like herself could not read about this particular strategy in a book. It was of his own creation and he had only used it a handful of times before.

The large stone door slid to the side into a wall pocket as he approached, recognizing the owner of the space. He had been living at Hogwarts since the summer after he turned eleven years old and Salazar Slytherin’s living quarters were more Severus Snape than black frock coats and scowling. He entered, urging the witch to follow him, into a large circular chamber. The highest part of the arched dome ceiling was thirty feet above their heads and bore the mounted head of a giant serpent, the rest of its preserved corpse curled up around it to the very edges of the room. Uncoiled, he had calculated the beast to be over a hundred meters long.

Across the room was a roaring fire in a spot covered hearth, that the elves frequently neglected to scrub to his satisfaction, and a pair of dark green leather armchairs. To his left was a dining room table and a kitchenette that he only used for preparing tea and washing whiskey glasses. And to his right was a grey stone bed built into the chambers with an ancient goose down mattress, silver silk bed sheets and a green scale pattern embroidered quilt that Minerva McGongall had gotten him for his twenty-fifth birthday nearly fourteen years before. Severus turned on his heel and observed the girl as she took in the room. Her jaw hung loosely as she too attempted to calculate the length of the atrocious beast attached to his ceiling.

“Miss Granger, we are short on time today as I have scheduled the evening meal to be delivered to our table in an hour.” Snape removed his wand from the pocket of his robes and reset the wards on his door. “Remove the rest of your garments for me.”

Hermione hesitantly unhooked her bra, revealing generous orbs of cream with dollops of peach preserves in the center that filled his mouth with water and his cock with blood. Again. She glanced around, looking for the appropriate place to leave her brassiere and Severus reached out a hand to take it, doing the same when she removed her knickers, revealing a smooth rear end and a sweet glistening cunt lightly dusted in soft brown curls. Her chest bore light freckles and the red splotches of her own nervous discomfort. Snape could tell she wanted to cover her more intimate regions with crossed arms and a downward reaching hand, and he was pleased she resisted the temptation.

“How many men have seen you like this, Miss Granger?” Severus asked, placing her lacy items in the top drawer of his long dresser.

“None have, Master.”

“Oh.”

_‘Oh’? Fucking ‘Oh’? Push that witch onto your bed and show her what dark magic a wizard can conjure between the sheets. Use her. Shedding virgin blood is a gift of the light, dammit!_

He cleared his throat and returned to her, brushing his fingertips over the gentle curve of her beaten bottom and around to grab a handful of her body’s natural modesty curtain. The sweet young witch yelped at his touch and tightly closed her eyes when he gave the hair in his grasp a playful tug. Snape kissed her shoulder, hoping to unleash something dormant within the girl, and led a trail of soft kisses up to her ear.

“Lay in the middle of my bed on your back, Miss Granger.” His fingers relaxed and released her from his hold and she scurried to obey his command. She laid down flat, pushing the two pillows on the bed off to either side so her head rested on the mattress. Her hands rested on her belly and Severus reached for them, pulling each to their side and laying them forearm and palm up. “Very good, my dear. This is how I wish for you to present yourself when I tell you to get into my bed. Is that clear?”

“Yes Master.” She answered over the sound of her own chattering teeth. 

“I told you that I wanted you to improve yourself before submitting sexually to me and that is still true. In fact, I will require a much more permanent arrangement before I bed you, but that is not the point.” Snape cleared his throat and circled the girl. “Today we are going to do an exercise addressing something you told me yesterday. Do you remember how you spoke of your body?”

Hermione nodded, rubbing her curls into his bed as a tear fell down her cheek. “I called my body ugly.”

“That you did.” Snape pointed his wand over at the full length mirror that leaned against his dungeon wall and it lifted from the ground. “You _insulted_ the very body that serves you, on top of mutilating it. If you ever wish for that body to serve me, you will have to love it entirely just as I would expect you to respect and care for any of my property. So for the next hour you are going to look at your body in this mirror.” He pulled his elbow back and muttered a charm, leaving the glass panel hovering parallel to but two meters above her naked form. “For any time you move, close your eyes any longer than it takes to blink or lose focus on the vessel that works day and night to give you life, you will receive five lashes with my belt. Is that clear, Miss Granger?”

The witch pinched her eyes shut to clear her tear filled eyes. “Perfectly clear, Master.”

“Five lashes! You will fucking look at yourself if you do not want me to make it ten.” He growled. She snapped her lids open, forced to observe her naked form. “By the time the hour is up, I will expect you to have both apologized to your body and told her ten things about her that is absolutely perfect.”

A fresh stream of tears clouded her vision and she blinked rapidly, struggling against her urge to sob, but kept her focus on the mirror. Severus watched her brown orbs move from side to side over her arms and torso then drop downwards to her legs. Her form shivered and gasped but she obeyed. Snape pulled his favorite of the two armchairs over beside the bed and sat down to study her.

“Miss Granger, it is time for you to apologize.” Hermione’s lips quivered and she nodded with agreement. “TEN LASHES! Do not make me wait.” He counted and she flinched before speaking.

“I’m sorry,” The young witch stammered. “And I’m sorry to my body. I should never have harmed you. It was wrong to punish you for the ability to survive. I’m very terribly sorry. Please, forgive me.”

His heart broke for the girl. A clenching only his throat restricted his breath as he held back his own temptation to cry. _Of course she will forgive you, Miss Granger. All you had to do was ask._ “Very good.” Severus croaked when he had the air to do so. “Now compliment her. Speak of her bountiful gifts.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed, studying her own barenaked form, and she settled on her first answer. “My body is strong.”

“Be more specific, Miss Granger.”

“Alright,” Hermione modded breathlessly. “My muscles are well built from running. They can carry me with great endurance and did so when we were fighting to kill the dark lord.”

“Marvelous.” Snape answered. “But I’m going to add one lash for failing to address me as your master. That makes eleven. Now go again, there are nine more you must do and only twenty minutes remain.”

“Umm,” The girl lay with the same thoughtful expression she had when she sat watching potions develop correct coloring and viscosity, but instead she examined her nose. “My nose is petite, Master, and I think on a woman a petite nose can be adorable, at times.”

“Indeed it can be. Eight more.”

She kept herself fixed on her face and smiled slightly. “My lips are very full. I noticed that when Lavender said boys enjoyed _kissing_ full lips. My ears do not stick out but are also not so tightly pressed against my head as to make me a cartoon or as to not be able to hold a quill or my wand. My eyes are an artist standard distance apart - like for when they draw portraits - and they’re a pleasing size for my face, Master.”

“Five more.”

“My immune system is strong. I hardly ever catch a cold or succumb to an infection. Madam Pomfrey even once asked if I knew how to brew a UTI potion because she figured I was just taking care of it on my own. But I don’t get them like the other girls tend to. I’m sorry if that’s too personal, Master.”

“Ah...Nonsense.” Snape cleared his throat. “UTIs are slightly more common when girls are sexually active. But that was a very important note all the same. Ability to fight infection is one of the more remarkable things our bodies do for us. Four more, quickly now.”

“My body can heal nearly anything that is inflicted upon it, Master, even against the odds.”

“Three to go.”

“It makes me happy that the beauty marks on my right foot can be connected with a quill to resemble a rose blossom, Master.”

“Two.”

She lay thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe this is silly, Master, but when I got back this year Madam Pomfrey did my annual physical and told me that despite the nasty hexes I’d received in the battle; I am still fertile. That gives me hope for a bright future somehow.” Snape smiled at this. “Even if I don’t have children. The choice is mine.” And then his smile was gone.

“One more to go before your lashes.”

“My body is gracious and merciful in its ability to forgive my indiscretions towards it. Does that count, Master?”

“Yes, that makes ten.” The happiness and relief that exuded from both the submissive witch and her master wizard could be felt in the air. Both of them smiled for a moment before Hermione was reminded of the eleven lashes waiting for her. “Turn over so I can get the backs of your thighs. Your bum has taken enough of my force over the last two days.”

She obeyed, rolling over and centering herself again. Each strike with his thin dragonhide belt reminded her of the blade sliding across her skin when it cut into her sensitive flesh. Though Severus did not draw blood, the eleven welts stacked on top of her would serve as a reminder any time the girl sat down that she had taken too long to give her body the reverence it deserved.

“You are magnificent, my pet.” Snape soothed, rubbing an oil over her sobbing form to bring her a taste of relief. “I am so proud of you.”

Hermione picked up her head where she rested it in her crossed arms and turned to look at him. “Your pet…”

“Yes.” Severus raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Do you like that term better?”

Her curls bounced and she returned his look. “I actually believe I do, Master.”

“Good,” He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers so lightly it could have been the wind. “then my pet you shall be.”


	3. Mad As They Make Them

**Chapter 3**

It was just before dawn when Severus admitted to himself he had to get the witch back to her dormitory bed, if only so she would be seen having risen from her own bedchambers instead of sneaking out of his own. The trouble was, he could not be seen in the process. Snape still wore his day clothes, choosing not to take them off in front of his sobbing student. No, not his student. His _pet._ Truly _his_ in every sense of the word. The wizard smirked to himself, wrapping her in the quilt and summoning a pair of house elves to apparate her into her own bedroom. As long as none of Miss Granger’s roommates were awake, or she kept her bed curtains closed to prevent dust from accumulating on her bed linens, he did not have to worry about her dramatic entrance being seen. Her dirty little secret would be safe. _He_ would be safe.

When he was sure she was settled in, as the elves had not reported any problems, Severus undressed and threw his own clothing into a lump on the floor. He needed to wash off the night he had spent with the little witch. His cock throbbed as the drafty dungeon air blew against it and under the streaming jets of water, he relieved the ache. It had been far too long since the lonely professor had had any worthy wank fodder and even longer since he had had the privacy to do so. _Thirteen years, perhaps?_ He wondered if it truly had been that long. Since Voldemort’s return four years prior, he had been focused entirely on stopping one of the darkest wizards of all time from taking over the world. And before that, the benefits of self stimulation were not his primary concern. There had been far more pressing matters taking up each hour of his day. Sure, there had been women, but it was not the same thing as being truly _inspired_.

“Severus,” Minerva nodded to him in greeting, knowing full well that he did not like his breakfast with a side of conversation.

Snape returned the gesture. “Head Mistress,” He sat next to her, as he usually did, and poured himself a cup of coffee. Tea was lovely to boost him through the day, but coffee provided the sharp jolt he needed to feel like himself. So he sipped, nibbling on buttered toast and watching over the great hall. Most days, his eyes would remain fixed on Slytherin’s table, the rest were not his responsibility, but he did take the time to make sure Miss Granger had gotten to breakfast on time. She ate lightly, to his dissatisfaction, but she was eating. It was an improvement that he would not neglect to reward her for.

Owls flew through the open castle windows, dipping and diving in every direction, and Severus waited patiently for his own letters. It was a wonder that none of the creatures ended up knocking one another out of the sky, but as he had never taken part in training an owl he couldn’t speak to if this came naturally to the bird or if it was a learned trait. The professor had just popped the last bite of crust into his mouth when a stout black owl - a gift he fondly remembered purchasing - dropped a robin egg blue envelope onto the head table.

 _Has it been a month already?_ He wondered, and Minerva eyed him expectantly, as if wondering the same thing. Snape flicked his wand at the seal, and watched it rip open. He pulled out the neatly folded letter that had been penned out in the same familiar blue ink on what he knew to be expensive aged parchment. He had not made a habit of purchasing such luxuries for himself, but he certainly had bought them before. In fact, he had paid for the sheet in his hands. For what he spent each year on stationary supplies, he expected significantly more correspondence than the twelve he annually received.

_She needs it for more than just writing to you, you egotistical bastard._

Severus sighed, scolding himself for being so self centered. Her life did not revolve around his own. He breezed past the heading and pleasantries, knowing full well the writer did not really care to know how he was doing, what occupied his free time or the nature of the weather conditions where he resided in comparison to her’s. To care about what such things, for the answers to actually matter, one person had to know the other well enough to have concerns if the answers were less than pleasant. As far as Severus could tell, that only went one way. The witch who wrote to him on the fourteenth each month did not know the potions professor well enough to care for him. On the other hand, with every fiber of his being, the dark wizard loved her.

_May the light have mercy on my broken soul, oh how I love her._

He shook his head to rid himself of the thought, looking down to hide his smile, and Minerva raised a hand to rub over his shoulder. Snape scanned the letter, happy for even a brief glimpse into the growing complexities of her well fed mind, and only felt a small twinge of disappointment when he spotted her request at the bottom of the page. It was to be expected, when the seasons changed, that she would require a new wardrobe. He did not resent this. It was his duty to provide such things.

“How is Ivy doing, Severus?” She patted lightly. “I figured her letter would be arriving any day now.”

The wizard nodded. “Very well, thank you for asking. She spent the summer with friends in the Greek Islands and picked up enough of the language to navigate her way around and converse with the locals. That makes it her sixth.”

Minerva sipped tea passively. “Quite impressive. And of course I will ask. What kind of friend would I be if I did not? A lousy one.”

“Indeed.” He grumbled, and looked over the parchment once more. Snape knew what Professor McGonagall felt about its writer. “I will have to take a trip to Gringotts this afternoon to transfer funds. For three-hundred-and-seventy-galleons, the damn goblins likely won’t accept a letter.

The older witch gulped hard. “That’s nearly a month’s salary. What could she possibly need that for?” Much was left spoken only by the expression on her face. These were matters they had discussed plenty of times before. **_She takes advantage of your generous nature! Why would she travel all summer if her funds were so tight? How much longer will you fund her ridiculous quest to find herself?_ **

“It is my job to send cheques, not ask questions.” Snape rushed to Ivy’s defense. “There are things she needs, Minerva. Clothing, toiletries, transportation-“ he had already paid her housing expenses several months in advance and a handful of others were handled annually. “-it all adds up to a small fortune I am afraid. However, it is my pleasure and honor to fulfill my financial obligations. If that is all I can offer her in this life, then I will do so without hesitation or complaint.” _It is a privilege of the light._ He reminded himself of that every day.

“You are a glutton for punishment, Severus.” Minerva snapped and grit her teeth. “If it were my choice, Ivy would have been cut off until she could learn to keep her promises. After the last stunt she pulled I would have thought even you would have had enough of her nonsense and given her a piece of your mind.”

 _Stunt_ was an interesting way to put it. That particular incident had cost him a sack of shiny sickles to send away. “Then it is fortunate this is _not_ your decision to make. One would think, given your profession and reputation, that you would have more patience than myself for mischievous whims.”

“We both know that you only have that level of patience with her.” She argued. “If you showed half as much to your students you would be a Hogwarts favorite in a week.”

At that, Snape chuckled. She was right. Maybe he did overlook too much of the trouble that Ivy had caused in his life. Or, more accurately, the damage she had done to his vault. The missing gold and a desk drawer of nearly identical letters was all the impact she had made on his life in the last four years. He thought about her and, light help him, he worried for her but she had not set foot in the castle for so long. It was easy to find his peace when he was not faced with the daily reminders of her every place he looked. The day she went away, all evidence of her existence had been packed away, sealed into trunks and put behind the strongest barriers of his mind. Only now could he entertain the thoughts, the bittersweet memories of a past life, and swallowed hard at the bile that rose in his throat.

“I only wish for her to be happy, Minerva. If all I can give her to accomplish that is my money and her freedom, then who am I to take that away?”

* * *

Ivy was on his mind through every class he taught that day, and he resolved to leave immediately after his class with Miss Granger to handle the situation in London. Losing any time with his pet was a disappointment, but Severus kept her after class to explain that he would be running an emergency errand. She was ordered not to come to him until after dinner, and the witch accepted his orders with grace. Her unwavering obedience and need to please brought him enough peace to lock his classroom, change into traveling clothes, and march dutifully to the edge of Hogwarts apparition restricting wards. With her loyalty anchoring him to the earth, he could handle the task at hand. No, he could take on the world.

Severus thought of diagon alley, and the teetering wedge shaped building, and soon found himself in the lobby of Gringotts. He found an unoccupied goblin, who was fortunately his favorite to do business with, and presented his vault key. “I need to make a transfer.”

“I see.” Muckword looked over the key, inspecting it to ensure it was not an imposter. The fake keys did not work on the vaults, but they were wonderful place holders for thieves to leave behind. A decoy, of sorts. Victims of such crimes would not realize for months, possibly years, that their vaults had been cleaned out. By the unchanged look on the creatures face, still a deep scowl, it was a genuine key. That tended to disappoint him, Snape knew. He did so enjoy delivering bad news. “Two hundred galleons?” It was the amount he had made a habit to send, without being asked, every few months for the last four years.

“No,” Severus huffed. “Three-hundred-and-seventy galleons.” 

A bushy eyebrow was raised, and his voice went along with it. “I see. And how soon does the full amount need to arrive?”

She had not presented the need for funds as an emergency, but he would not put it past her to downplay any situation that required quite that much money. “Tonight. An attended transfer, if at all possible. To ensure it arrives in full, to intended destination.

The wrinkled creature pressed its glasses up its long nose with a crooked finger. “Region?” He eyed the marked up map that was fixed to his counter with a permanent sticking charm, prepared to trace out a route and plan what tunnels to use to get there. Gringotts was only under London, but offshoots could send him under the channel and throughout Europe in minutes instead of hours by muggle plane or days by boat.

“The South Of France.” Severus told him, and flinched when Muckword’s eyes lit up, a sickly smile spreading across his face. _Is that what I look like to students?_ He wondered, then shook it off. No difference was made. It was clear the goblin knew where the galleons were headed, and who they were headed to. At least the information was well received. Severus had been a good customer, keeping his wages and his Order Of Merlin First Class financial winnings with their bank, and this awarded him special treatment. _She_ did not hurt the situation, and he marveled at her ability to make the strangest of friends. 

“Ahh for _her_ , Master Snape, that will not be a problem. I can hand deliver the amount in full for no charge.” He flipped through his ledger book, dipped the quil and marked several pages with numbers and initials. “An oral report on her condition will be complimentary, as it has always been. It will be delivered to Hogwarts along with your key, sometime in the next few days. It would be a shame if no one was looking out for her. She is such a pretty girl.”

“Agreed.” Severus nodded uncomfortably, turning on his heel and not stopping even when he heard the goblin’s muttering.

“Mad as they make them, dangerous as a dagger yielding dragon,” Muckword chuckled to himself, hopping down from his desk and waddling the opposite way. “... and far _too_ pretty.”

Severus Snape was seething by the time he apperated back to Hogwarts, and his sanity was held on by only a thread when he entered the castle. Their words, those of Minverva and the bloody goblin, were not original. The same sentiments were expressed when most people met Ivy. After all the time that had passed, it shouldn’t have bothered the wizard. He _should_ have grown accustomed to their uninformed ramblings about a witch they would never know. Not the way he did, anyway. After all that he had seen and done, their ignorance should not have been the thing to grate at his nerves and work him in a mood to put his fist through glass. But it did. Oh merlin, just as intensely as he loved her, it infuriated him.

He pulled out his wand, flicked it at his office door, and was accosted with a reminder of his prior obligation to Miss Granger. She had been a rare light in his bleak existence the last several days, and Severus was relieved to put concerns of goblins, galleons and the damned girl out of his mind. While the professor could not control a move that Ivy made, he was a master of his current domain. Finally, he could breathe. 

“Come to me, my pet.” He widened the space between his knees and reached down to run his fingers through her coarse curls. “Let us simply be, for a while.”


	4. Drowning His Worries

**Chapter 4**

_“Ivy! Where the hell are you?” Severus called out into an empty library. Madam Pince had gone to her chambers and locked up, but that never seemed to stop the witch from working her way into any room she desired. It was as if the castle allowed her simply to get under his skin. Perhaps it loathed him as much as his students did. “You will return to our chambers this instant! I am not going to tell you twice.”_

_A soft giggle revealed her hiding place behind a book return cart and she darted out, her traditional floor length white nightgown flaring out behind her. It was a garment of the faith, sewn by his female elf from enchanted silk and washed by his own hands in a natural body of water every three days. It would repel any dark magic from creeping into her mind while she slept, protecting her already troublesome thoughts. For her to wear it outside of slumber was sacrilegious and Snape had told her as much on a hundred separate occasions. He reached out an arm as she scooted past him, hoping to catch her around the waist and put an end to the unwilling game of chase he had been conned into partaking in, but Ivy evaded him._

_The damned girl always did._

**_Light, give me strength._ ** _He groaned to himself, following her out into the hall._

_The empty hall._

**_Fuck!_ **

_Though he promised himself long ago he never would, Severus was growing tired of her games. His patience was wearing thinner with each passing day, corresponding with the sleep that evaded him. There were already those on the staff that believed she should not be living at Hogwarts, and they only knew her during the day. Ivy could be overwhelming during daylight hours, but those were nothing compared to when the sun set. Nights were horrible by comparison._

_Her energy would reach its peak just as the moon moved overhead. When his wards held on the room, she tore pages out of ancient tomes and shattered mirrors. Waves of uncontrolled magic tore cabinet doors off their hinges, sent furniture flying through the air and pulled even paintings affixed with with sticking charms from the walls. When the best wards he knew could not hold, which was more often than Snape cared to admit, he had to chase her around and outside of the castle. He would rarely catch her a moment before she wished to be caught, but he could not leave her unsupervised. Ivy could jump from the astronomy tower, too trusting of her magic and reflexes to protect her from the fast approaching ground, or drown in the lake after being called to its dark depths by a figment of her wild imagination. It was only through the unquestionable authority of Albus Dumbledore that Severus had been permitted to keep her there. The headmaster’s word had been law and at the time he had been incredibly thankful. Now, he was unsure if it had been the right decision._

_His days and nights became a blur that he could not slow down. Only shapes and colors of what he had tried to build for himself could be seen, and he sat down on the stone floor. How much longer could he go on like this? He was not an old man by muggle or wizard standards, but the girl had aged him rapidly. Every moment of the day his lids felt heavy, as if blinking too long could be what sent him down the rabbit hole into a deep sleep. Severus closed his eyes, drifting in and out of rest while he waited for the witch. Perhaps she would stop if he neglected to follow her. If only to turn back, pout and remind him of how the game was played. She was exactly that variety of maddening. Ivy was intelligent, creative and strong willed, making her absolutely insanity inducing. That was what made her the witch she was, and as far as Snape was concerned she was absolutely perfect._

_“Ivy,” Severus said when he finally heard mouse quiet bare feet approaching him from the left. His eyes were still shut and he reached out towards her, showing her his palm. Dainty fingers wound within his and he smiled, pulling her down into his lap and kissing the top of her head. “Promise me you will never change for anyone. Promise me that even when I am turning to dust in the earth, you will still be you. Fully and unwaveringly as the light made you. Please, give this old wizard some peace in his heart.” He chuckled and she giggled again. It was music to his ears. As long as she was fine, he would endure. For her, he could endure anything._

_The head nodded, and he smiled into her hair. “I promise.”_

_“And you know I love you, right?” He whispered this time, aware that students could be wandering the halls after curfew. “More than there are stars in the sky. More than my life. More than the light itself.”_

_Again, she nodded, her dark hair tickling his large hooked nose. She smelled like a sweets shop, of root beer rock candy and peppermint sticks. It was so very innocent. “I love you too.”_

_His fingers tickled at her ribs, pulling more of the marvelous laughter that soothed his aching and weary soul. If it had been up to him, he could have held her right there on the cold floors of the castle for the rest of this life and the eternity of the next. When the others had told him this is what it would be like, the complete and utter devotion, his disbelief had been evident to all those around him. The other wizards had smiled, and told him to seek guidance, and that the light would show him his answer. It had shown him her. Even when he fought it, bargained for another path, nearly renounced his faith to escape the task assigned to him, but the light had held steady._

_He was so thankful that it had._

* * *

Severus pulled the bottle to his lips, ignoring the glass he had finished drinking from. It was an unnecessary step. All he needed to do was stop thinking. Stop remembering. Stop feeling the bitter emptiness in his chest. He _was_ empty. A part of him was missing. A part that was ripped out, thrown on a train and sent away like a shameful secret. But he was not ashamed. No matter what assumptions the uninformed made with their meager minds, he would never be ashamed of Ivy. _She_ was a part of him. The only part he could never hate. 

He had taken the dark mark. He hadn’t saved Lily. He had murdered Albus Dumbledore. His life was a series of horrifying decisions and mistakes turned to debilitating regret.

Except for her. He would never regret her.

Snape could have brewed a potion to cure cruciatus insanity, painted the next great masterpiece on the ceiling of the great hall or single handedly killed the dark lord, and none of it would have been his greatest accomplishment. Ivy would always hold that place. 

_What is the old saying?_ He struggled to recall, his drunkenness the biggest inhibitor to his normally quick mind. **_Time heals all wounds?_ ** _Fucking bullshit._ Time had done nothing for him besides allow the edges of his to fester and give off the putrid smell of human decay.

It had been two days since he received Ivy’s letter, and Severus was still unsettled. He had sent Miss Granger home early the night he returned, not letting her sleep in his bed after her beating, and had penned her a regretful owl the next. He had not wanted to cancel on her, in fact he had been greatly looking forward to her company, but when he found himself in need of a glass of firewhisky to calm his racing thoughts and it had turned into several, he knew it was not meant to be. The professor struggled to wade through the fog of his mind, which was not a safe frame of mind to deliver discipline in. Miss Granger needed control and stability in her life, not chaos from just another source. The poor witch had certainly had enough of that for a lifetime.

When he sat up in bed, Severus decided to make himself suffer through the ache behind his eyes. A hangover potion would have been easy enough to locate in his storeroom, but he instead wanted to teach himself a lesson. Along with that lesson, he had a promise to keep. Before falling asleep the night before, he promised to find his peace once more. It was not a promise to himself, easily made and just as easily broken. It was a promise to the light. A promise not to stray from its good graces.

Showered, shaved, dressed and buttoned into his controlled bindings, Severus Snape set out to start his day. He had chosen to skip breakfast in the great hall, and since it was Sunday, there were no classes to teach. A surprising amount of grading had gotten done when he was intoxicated, and he would page through it before the morning came to make sure he had not written anything embarrassing or revealing of his state. 

He did a sweep through the Slytherin common room and the empty dorms, muttering spells to summon any contraband the students had brought in on the train, and was pleased to not find a damn thing. He knew it was there, as his house did not make a habit of denying themselves the pleasures their means allowed, but at least at the next staff meeting he could brag on how well behaved students were. Their cloaking spells were much better as well, but that he would have to keep to himself. 

Severus had to find his pet. It had been a disgrace to his title of Master - and aspiration of Lord - to brush her off in the way he had. Miss Granger deserved nothing less than his best performance as a dominant and he would grovel for the privilege of continuing to give it to her. Raised as a gentleman, fine tuned with the help pureblood culture and driven by the light, the professor knew exactly how to humble himself before a woman for the honor of her devotion. Though it was uncalled for, he would have reached up from the top tower and plucked the moon from the sky for a second chance. His pet was well worth the risk of falling.

* * *

The smell of parchment kept the temptations from overtaking her, so Hermione buried her face in an arithmancy text. It was not required reading for her NEWT level class but she treated the leather bound book as if it was. She needed to focus on anything but her nearly irresistible urge to slit her wrists with a letter opener. If she went back to her room now, no one would find her for hours. The sweet darkness could extinguish her suffering as it enveloped her. 

_Dammit!_ The witch sucked in a tight breath, the hunger pains a momentary distraction from her own suicidal ideations. _Quit it with your whining!_ Hermione Granger had survived the battle of Hogwarts and still had the obnoxious audacity to wish herself amongst the dead. Was it the dark magic that Bellatrix LaStrange had carved into her skin? Perhaps a curse of slow insanity had been placed upon her when the Death Eaters realized they were going to lose the war?

 _It makes no difference,_ she told herself. “I am the master of my own mind.” Hermione smiled smugly, content to say her affirmation out loud even if a few fellow students heard the declaration.

A large hand enveloped her shoulder, warmth when she was chilled to the bone, and she melted into the familiar touch. “No no no, my pet,” He bent down beside her ear and whispered. “That title belongs to me. How are you feeling today?”

“Fine, Master.” She nodded, keeping her voice down. They would not be noticed for what happened.

A sharp pain at the base of her neck made her flinch, and it took her a moment to realize he had pulled her her hair. “Do not lie to me like that _ever_ again. You are clearly minutes from losing any semblance of self control. I am a legilimens, you chit. As I am quite familiar with the workings of your mind, I hardly need to be looking into your eyes to see inside your soul. So this is what is going to happen next. I am going to wait patiently and graciously while you pick up the mess you’ve made at this table and then I shall escort you to the edge of Hogwarts grounds for the two of us to take a little _field trip_ to resolve this situation. Then, when we return, I will turn you over my knee and remind you who is in charge here. Do you understand?”

Her voice caught in her throat, her panties dampened and she took care not to aggravate his grip with a nod. “Yes, Master.”


	5. The Temple

**Chapter 5**

Her heart beat thudded mercilessly in her ears.  _ Where are we going?  _ Hermione struggled to keep up with his larger strides, and when he grew irritated with her inability to maintain his pace, the darkly dressed wizard stopped, bowed before her and threw the witch over his shoulder. His hand clapped down on her back end hard, irritating the bruises and welts that were still healing and she knew at that moment he must have disillusioned them both before they left the castle. It would shock her much more if Professor Snape had chosen to put their newfound relationship on display for the entire student body of Hogwarts, not to mention the staff members that would hear such gossip. He would lose his job, his war medals and his status as a potions master. Bedding a student was a serious offense.

Except, he hadn’t bedded her, had he? No, he had seen her nude, but only to deliver a swift and much needed punishment. While such conduct was frowned upon in the muggle world, Hermione did not know if that was also the case amongst wizards. Had her professors been allowed to beat her the entire time? Did this happen regularly to students, right under her nose? No one had been able to take legal action against Umbridge for her use of those horrible quills in line writing, but Hermione had always figured that was because she was appointed by the ministry. Maybe that had not been the case…

He apparated with her just outside the gates, a privilege allowed only to Hogwarts professors. Others would have to travel all the way from Hogsmeade and be admitted only by headmistress escort or an invitation that the castle itself had been made aware of. She found her footing on hard ground, and her master adjusted where her school robes fell, only to whip his wand over her and transfigure her clothing into pure white robes.

“What is this about, Master?” She raised her brow, picking up each of her feet as he knelt and took her shoes from her. “What was wrong with my clothes?”

He rushed to shrink her shoes and deposit them in his own pocket, replacing them with paper thin white slippers. “You are a virgin, correct? You have not lied to me in this, my pet?”

“Of course not!” She scoffed, turning beet red and remembering the rule she’d broken. “Master.”

His black eyes appraised her own, searching for dishonesty in her words and finding none. “Very well then. Virgins ladies and brides wear white within the temple. That is where we are going. You will keep your chin up, look every witch or wizard we meet directly in the eyes and speak politely no matter what you think of the individual or their family. Any surprise you experience at who you encounter or what you see happen shall be well shielded and you will not speak of  _ anything  _ you see to anyone outside of myself. Do you understand what I am asking of you?” 

Hermione nodded, and he tapped a finger on her chin to close her slightly parted lips. 

“Good pet.”

“What are you supposed to wear, Master? May I help transfigure your garments?” She stammered through her offer, forcing false confidence into her voice that earned her a sharp look. 

Then, her master laughed. It was a chuckle from his belly and came with an earnest smile. “Oh my sweet pet, what little you know of what is to come. For once, knowledge on a topic evades you and I find your confusion quite endearing. Teaching you will be fun. If you must know, I  _ am  _ wearing my temple attire. I wear my temple attire every day of my life. It does not look the same as all others within - some wizards instead choose muggle suits or dark green dress robes - but I have stuck with the more traditional display of devotion. Now, I must do something with this hair of yours.”

Severus pinched her curls in a few spots, muttering to himself. He pulled a lace handkerchief from his pocket and whispered to it while it grew. “Turn around.” She obeyed his order and felt her hair being braided then wrapped with the fabric. “Much better, pet. Are you ready, or would you like a few moments to compose yourself?”

_ Compose myself for what?  _ Hermione wondered, unable to speak but nodding along to his commands and questions.  _ How am I supposed to prepare if I don’t have a damned clue what is going on?  _ There was white and gray marble under her feet, and she stood under an overhang of a white building on top of a tall hill. No, not a building. Her master had told her it was a temple. His temple. The black frock coat was part of it all. Her mind swam, more questions than she’d ever asked before trapped behind a barrier that she struggled to hold steady. “I don’t know what to do, Master. I don’t even know what’s going on.”

His crooked and slightly yellow teeth beamed back at him, a smile she’d never imagined she would be the cause of. “You will soon see it all, my pet. Everything will become much more clear. Just keep a hand on me, in the crook of my arm, and let me show around.” Severus reached for a large black door knocker, dropping it twice and waiting. The door opened of its own accord and they stepped forward into a room like none she’d ever seen.

Hermione Granger had been raised like many children in England, attending the church and participating in christian holiday pageants. She had seen weddings, funerals and many Sunday services from their favorite pew, near the back of the building. Her mother had fought her to leave the books at home, her father had insisted she pay attention not to rip her tights by sitting on the cement steps and she had not taken much away from the experience other than that church was incredibly boring. The witch found much more peace in the library at school than she ever did in the house of worship her parents had tried to bring her up in.

There were no pews in the building Snape led her into. Her master brought her to another circular room, several times larger than his chambers, and it followed the motif of waxed marble. Instead of benches leading to an altar, there was a round center stage with a short staircase to climb to its top. From where she stood, it was ten feet across, and quite occupied. A beautiful dark skinned woman draped in only a translucent white sheet knelt before the room, reading from a book that she had placed on the ground before her. Occasionally she would glance over her shoulder at a man in the green robes that Severus had described and he would nod with reassurance. The witch would return back to reading her incantations aloud, spells Hermione did not recognize and it was clear to her that everyone else in the room did. Dozens of eyes gazed upon them belonging to both males and females and they whispered along approvingly at her pronunciations and executions of the chant. 

Her master found them a chair and moved her to sit by his feet, but they both still watched the ritual taking place. The dark witch smiled so proudly, as did her matching wizard, and he moved closer to her to lift her off the ground into a bridal embrace. Their lips met, his hands working their way under her veil and down into the folds between her legs. It was only then that Hermione realized she recognized the man and could even call him a friend. Her gaze darted away, afraid to intrude on an intimate moment of someone she knew. 

She turned to the professor, who hadn’t felt the need to exercise such discretion. “That’s Kingsley Shacklebolt, isn't it?”

“Indeed,” Snape reached down and petted her head. “Here he is Lord Shacklebolt and she is his youngest wife,  Lysis . What you witnessed was quite a treat, Pet. Conception rituals like that one are only done once or twice in the lifetime of a witch. They have a bit of a habit of wreaking havoc on the female body if overused. A lord only utilizes that type of magic when he is desperate for a male heir. Between Genesis and Lysis, he has four daughters.”

Her lips parted once more and she struggled to make sense of it all. “Two wives, and four daughters aren’t enough for him? Doesn’t he love the girls as much as he would love boys?”

Severus cocked his head and raised a brow before realizing what she implied. The muggle world would always confound him. “Oh no dear girl, they love their daughters unconditionally and without limits. That is  _ why  _ they must have a son. Should Lord Shacklebolt die before his daughters choose to marry, their brother will be able to cast the spells and perform those tasks required to defend them from the dangers of dark magic. It would be unforgivable to leave them unprotected.”

“Only a wizard can cast the spells?”

He frowned at her accusatory glance and reminded himself that this was to be expected. The muggle world was much different from his own. “Those particular spells, yes. And you will not ask the light why it has chosen this to be so. The light is to be trusted, not dissected, even by the most curious of minds. Though do trust me, as a wizard that has performed such spells myself, I can attest to the spells being far more of a burden than an honor. Considering he would have six witches to watch after in various capacities, I cannot imagine he would do much more than perform that magic, eat to keep up his strength and sleep when he had the rare chance. Lord Shacklebolt is a very powerful wizard which is the only way he can hold a job at the ministry and look after his brood.”

Hermione afforded herself a glimpse at the stage, and the scarlet wash returned to her cheeks. The wizard had shed his robes, laid them down over the cold floor, and was ravishing his wife for all the room’s occupants to see. Their love making was passionate, gentle and exactly what Hermione imagined her first time would be like. The pair locked into one another, pieces of a puzzle that were meant for only one another, which was not quite true. It shocked Hermione that she hadn’t known Kingsley had one wife, let alone more. He had been recently featured in an article of the most eligible bachelors in wizarding Britain. The minister was a prestigious position and to be by his side was a coveted place that the Prophet seemed to believe was empty.

“Master, how did I not know about Kingsley being married?” She asked, leaning her head against his knee and continuing to watch the surprisingly tender lovemaking in front of her. Maybe the next day she would die of shock, but within the temple watching such an act brought her peace. Perhaps that was why Severus had found it to be the home for his heart.

He watched the ritual as well, appraising its performance carefully. “Both unions are secret kept. They were only attended by one Lord to serve as the light’s eye.”

“But you just told me about them,” Hermione pushed, and then felt instantly foolish. “You are the secret keeper, then.”

“Mhm.” He agreed, joining the room in a round of applause when Kingsley stilled over his bride. The wizard’s face tightened and he pushed a bit deeper, then started to pant with relief. 

“Did he just… are they clapping because he…  _ why _ ?”

Severus reached down to the girl, lifting her up and depositing her into his lap. “Please, Miss Granger, you can say the word. It is not dirty or perverted as you have been taught, it is biological and factual. They clapped when he  _ ejaculated. _ As to your question of why, children are a blessing of the light. Their son was just conceived before our eyes. We are all very happy for their good fortune and success. Lysis must have been here reciting spells since dawn and it is likely that Genesis is doing the same at home in a show of solidarity. It takes nearly all the magic a witch has to do something like that. Lord Shacklebolt has exhibited a profound amount of restraint simply watching such a thing occur. I can only imagine how many times he was tempted to end the ceremony just to restore her power and ensure she was in good health.”

The room continued to hum happily and Hermione wondered how exactly she had found herself in such a place. They were celebrating a man reaching  _ completion  _ during a fertility ritual that could have killed one of his  _ two _ wives. “What type of magic is this?” She whispered.

Snape tightened his hold on the girl. “Any magic that you learned in school was neutral, so to speak. With the rare exception of a patronus, it was not good magic nor was it bad. The board of governors has us teaching a curriculum that leaves students with a choice as to how to use their power. This is restorative magic, my pet. Opposite to the darkness, which sullies and withers, it cleanses and nourishes the soul. We are in the Light Of Redemption temple just outside of London.”

“Wizards and witches come here for redemption from dark magic?” Hermione settled into him. “You joined this because of Volde-”

“Yes,” He interrupted, looking to avoid the name entirely. It was a phase of his life he was immeasurably grateful had passed. “I joined after the first war. Though these days you will find a fairly even mix of those who required redemption and those who were born into a family that practiced. Like the Shacklebolts, for instance. I believe he is fourth generation Light, on his father’s side. Not many have that long of a lineage since it is a very strict faith to follow. The light is most attractive to those who require its grace.”

“And you brought me here because you think that restorative magic is what will help me? That I’ve been tainted by the war?”

Snape nodded into the crook of her neck, kissing her softly on the skin of her shoulder. “It has been known to happen from time to time by those who have had excessive contact with dark relics or magic, even if they have not partaken in any of it. You, Potter and Weasley destroyed most of The Dark Lord’s soul, piece by piece, and there are consequences to letting that out into the world. Darkness seeks what it has the best change to corrupt, even in its most weakened form. Out of the choices it was given, the magic found you to be the best fit.”

Hermione winced, moaning slightly at the way his lips teased her flesh. His touch was its own type of magic she could not categorize. “What does this have to do with you spanking me? You said before that I needed a spanking…”

He chuckled again against her skin and the vibrations brought a slickness to her knickers. “Tradition, perhaps? It takes deep trust for a witch to allow a wizard to protect her. She must believe in his magic if she ever wants to find any peace or reassurance in her own future. Would she not trust her lord, then what reason would a witch have to believe his magic was capable of shielding her from harm? Submission to a lord of the light is the greatest display of that trust. Genesis exhibited it to Lord Shacklebolt by giving her blessing for him to also mark Lysis. Then today, Lysis demonstrated submission to Kingsley by performing her ritual with his oversight. She knows that if there were any threat, he would have eliminated it. I prefer submission of a different kind alongside the modern type and see discipline as a necessary component for keeping a witch on the right path. Or guiding a witch to that path, in your case. Consider me in yet another way, quite traditional. If the founders knew most wizards in this room did not treat their wives with a firm hand they would certainly send this temple crumbling to the ground.”

“So you believe this is why I have impulses to…”

Again, he nodded. “To let your blood? Yes, I am afraid so. Though you can thank Madam LeStrange for that. She left you full of dark magic when she carved into your arm with that cursed blade of her’s. Do not worry, as it has been destroyed. Unfortunately, there is still the matter of the magic that wishes to either wreak havoc on or escape your body.”

Her mouth felt dry and the cursed wound under her white robes burned. Was this what Harry’s scar had felt like all those years? She couldn’t know. All she could remember was the pain. Tears traced down her cheeks and her master reached out to wipe them away. “But you could remove it? Using redemptive magic?”

“There are spells and ceremonies I could use to separate the magic from a member of the faith. However, I am afraid that is a restriction that cannot be worked around or lifted.” Severus gave her a woeful look, appreciating seeing her there and heartbroken that it had come to such. Sobbing in the temple was not unheard of - or even uncommon - but it never stopped breaking his heart seeing a witch forced into the faith to escape a power outside of her control. That tended to be the way it was, with a few notable exceptions. Wizards required redemption from darkness that they sought in the name of power and witches needed that same healing after being cause in the crossfire. “You would need to be marked, which is a light ceremony treated by the ministry as a wizarding marriage, by a lord who you trusted to help you rid yourself of the dark magic.”

The tears were free flowing now and she could not hold back her gasps of agony. A few witches and wizards watched the exchange, including Lord Shacklebolt, but it was not interrupted. They would give her time to feel whatever she was feeling before choosing to introduce themselves.

“Will you do it?” Hermione asked, sniffling in hopes she wouldn’t soil her robes.

Severus raised both eyebrows in surprise, his black eyes wide. “You do not know enough of what you are asking, my pet.”

“I do know,” The witch pushed. “I know that I cannot spend a lifetime like this. Not one worth living. Mark me. Fix me. Do whatever you must do, Master. I can hardly stand another moment. Today, or tonight, I beg of you.”

“Shh, sweet girl.” Snape lifted his hand to wipe away more tears and muttered a spell to clear her plugged up airways. “Do not fret. I am not rejecting you. All I am asking is for you to take the time to learn what you would be sacrificing for such healing. Once the price has been paid, it cannot be refunded. We will talk more about it later. Today is supposed to be a happy day. You now have hope. Please let that be enough.”

He rocked her, whispered calming mantras in her ear and rubbed circles on her shuttering back while she cried. It took time, but her swollen cheeks returned to their proper size and color and she was able to stand back on her own two feet. Severus offered her a hooked arm.

“Let us congratulate the happy parents.”

She nodded, and strode along with Severus while he conversed with other faith members. Hermione noticed amongst them a pair of quidditch players, a mediwizard, several ministry officials, a handful of low ranking death eaters and some former Hogwarts students that had been a few years above her in school. They were some of the last to reach Kingsley and his wife, who were both smiling like love stricken adolescents.

“Lord Shacklebolt, my pet and I wish to offer you our most sincere congratulations and prayers. May the light be with your family.” Severus bowed before the man, pulling her down with him, and stood up straight again just as quickly. “Lysis, you are already glowing.”

_ Glowing?  _ Hermione questioned, noticing that the woman was misted with a fine layer of sweat. Powerful magic could do that.

Kingsley reached out and took Severus’s free hand to draw him into an awkward embrace that the witch did not wish to be part of. “Thank you, old friend. I’m quite pleased to see you here with Miss Granger. I wasn’t informed through any of my channels that she had interest in redemption. Or that she required it.”

“The war.” Snape explained, and Kingsley gave him a look of understanding.

“With that I do empathize. If there is anything I can do to help you with your decision, Miss Granger, please don’t hesitate to ask.” The man hugged her as well and to her surprise, her master allowed it without the slightest impression that he had been put out. “If you are seeking to be marked, I know many suitors. I myself have been considering a third. My magic has proven powerful enough to handle the stress and I am bound by duty I am grateful for to offer it..” He pulled back, only to be jabbed in the ribs by his wife’s elbow. The two of them laughed, not at Hermione’s expense but at Kingsley’s phrasing.

The dark woman, likely ten years older than Hermione but still naked as the day she was born, put a hand on her arm. “I apologize for my Lord being so forward, Miss Granger. He is quite committed to the protection of witches. The pretty ones are his weakness.”

“I suppose I should say thank you, then.” She offered and the group laughed once more. “It truly is an honor to be welcomed in your temple.”

Kingsley flashed her his smile. “It is a much greater honor to have you here.” His attentioned turned to his wife and he requested that she find them some wine while they moved their talks to a set of arm chairs on the side of the room. She poured them both generous cups and Hermione sipped hers carefully. “Lord Snape, how is your Ivy? Is the light treating her well?”

“Quite well, thank you.” He took a strained sip and ignored her questioning glance. The only response she did recieve was a pinch to her elbow that may as well have uttered the words  **_ask me later._ **

The man in front of them was oblivious, still radiating joy. “I don’t know how you do it, old friend. I hardly manage with mine under the same roof. I could not imagine the distance not being the most curel of torture. Will she be returning home soon? We would love to see her in the temple once more.”

“Nothing would bring me greater joy.” Snape said, himself struggling to look the man in the eye. “But it is not about me. As fathers of the light, we must put our daughters first.”


	6. Women Over Wine

Lysis had taken Miss Granger to look at the gardens, insisting that they were more breathtaking than any others in the world. It was an exaggeration, in Severus’s opinion, but it did afford him and Kingsley privacy to talk about Lordly things that pets and wives need not be part of. 

“She’s magnificent.” Kingsley sipped his glass of red wine, watching the nude and white robed witches walk away. “Though I can hardly believe you brought her here on a Sunday afternoon. Word spreads and the vultures will soon circle, Lord Snape.”

He huffed. “Then I will fend them off with a slingshot. If they wish to play childish games then I shall stoop lower than they have and win. I am unconcerned by the likes of lesser wizards.” They could all expect a hex thrown their way if they tried to lay a hand on his pet. 

The minister leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and lowered his voice. This type of talk always reminded Severus too much of death eater meetings for his comfort. The trading of women over wine was universal amongst those who sought power, no matter what kind it was. “Though Genesis and Lysis would be less than pleased, I would be willing to mark the girl if it comes to it. I’d ask her today, when they return from their walk, and could have the potions ready in only a day or two, should she accept. Her eyes are sunken, she’s lost what little weight she had on her bones and her magical core is practically humming with darkness. There isn’t much time before the damage will start to become permanent.”

“It already has.” Severus snapped, thinking of the scars that marked her alabaster skin. “And, while I appreciate your  _ selfless _ willingness to bed another virgin witch, I am going to have to insist you step down. This one is mine and I am perfectly capable of brewing my own potions - should you have forgotten my day title. Just because I have chosen to court her and show restraint does not mean I am not eager to mark Miss Granger for myself. Be pleased that you now will have your son and do not give him further burden by overextending your reach.”

Kingsley rolled his eyes. “I’m perfectly healthy, Lord Snape. This is simply a precaution. And when did you find any interest in marking a witch? Didn’t you have Ivy carried by a surrogate - to avoid exactly this kind of attachment?” Lord Shacklebolt did not push him further and did not appear upset that the witch was off limits. He was not a predator looking for prey, but an eager servant of the light. Instances that did not require his service also did not hold his attention.

“That was then and this is now. Surely as the minister of magic you can note the differences in circumstance.” He pursed his lips. The Dark Lord was dead, and that left Severus Snape more freedom in how he chose to practice his faith. “And I have no clue what you were told but Ivy was the product of a one night stand with an irresponsible waitress who has no interest in raising her child.”

“I wasn’t aware you made a habit of using a temple matchmaker to meet french waitresses and getting yourself off in a cup. What an interesting fetish.” Shacklebolt held back a chuckle and smirked with stark white teeth. “Or did you forget that I too knew you back in those days? You’d never have had careless sex with an anonymous witch. You’re too vain to risk having a child with a - what do you call most of your students? Dunderheads?”

“Well the waitress is my story and I suggest you confirm it should the topic arise outside these temple walls.”

Kingsley reached into his inner robe pocket and procured two cigars, cutting them expertly with his wand and handing another to Severus. “To celebrate this day. Our own private toast. To Lysis for carrying my son and Miss Granger for making a true lord out of my old friend.”

“Light help me.” Snape mumbled, and lit up his cigar. He puffed on it passively, tasting an underlying substance beyond muggle tobacco. Kingsley’s own hybrid plants did not need to be inhaled into the lungs to lower your inhibitions. At least he did not indulge more than a few times a year, or the ministry would suffer for it. “You sneaky bastard.”

The other lord smirked, and settled back. “You could loosen your garments a touch, Severus. Though not before you figure out how you’re going to convince your employer that this is a blessed union. The girl hasn’t finished school yet, but giving her six months could be fatal.”

_ Minerva.  _ He sighed and puffed a bit. “I suppose I cannot simply tell her the light approved and be done with it? Just hope that she will send me a basket of pears and perhaps some nice cheese as a wedding present?”

“Very funny,” Kingsley puffed and smirked. “You know as well as I do that Minerva renounced the temple when her father died so she would not have to marry a man. She’ll see it Miss Granger being pressured or pushed into a marking. It is the rest of the girl’s life we are talking about, Lord Snape. And I suppose Miss Granger doesn’t know you are quite… how did you put it when we last spoke? ‘Scripturally compliant’?”

“Wrong again, and if she was as naked as your Lysis today you could see exactly how traditional my methods are. Miss Granger needs as firm of a hand as you use for Genesis.” He smirked and winked at the man across from him and the minister frowned with disapproval. “Do not give me that look, Kingsley. She deserved a taste of my belt leather before she committed to eating it.”

“Is that why you are leaving Ivy at school? To skirt around your responsibility to discipline her? I can hardly imagine you sitting through four hours of readings every time she obeys the darkness over her father. You’d never have a moment in the classroom.” The man tipped the ash into a tray that materialized before them. “Tradition can be overly cumbersome. My daughters just lose toys until they seek the light’s forgiveness.”

Severus very much doubted, with the amount of clutter in the Shacklebolt home, that a unicorn figurine or a set of play makeup would be missed. “For the last time, Ivy is not obeying the darkness. She is simply quite powerful and learning to control such power was too much for a child. It is unethical to punish her for her potential. As fathers we should nurture magic, not suppress it.”

“Then bring her home, Severus.” The man narrowed his eyes. “You can’t nurture from hundreds of miles away. Dammit, you are a teacher. So do what you do. Teach!”

If only it had been that simple. “I could not properly teach her then. Why should I risk failing again? She is doing well.”

“She is surviving.” He puffed once more. “If Ivy were with you, with your new wife, she would thrive. And perhaps she could assist you in making progress with your godson’s conversion.” Kingsley raised his eyebrows suggestively and Severus scoffed.

“My daughter is thirteen years old. That alone hardly makes her an appropriate match for an eighteen year old, womanizing, dark mark bearing wizard.” Snape shook his head, ridding himself of the fabricated images that threatened to steal his sanity. 

Lord Shacklebolt pushed on. “Do you forget that my Lysis was promised to me when she was only a bit older? That does not mean I was to mark her then. Only that I was to attend holiday dinners with gifts, sit with her at ceremonies and send her the occasional bouquet of flowers. Sometimes I took her dancing to make her feel special. We courted for four years. It was not a problem for me to wait until she was ready.”

“Do  _ you  _ forget that you already had Genesis at home to bed and bear your children? Two of your daughters were born back-to-back during that time and I hardly see that as a coincidence. Even a decent wizard of the light cannot resist thoughts of the future when it comes to a witch he has been promised. I hardly believe that Draco possesses more self control than the minister of magic himself.” Severus took out his wand and sliced off the burning portion of his cigar so he could finish smoking it at a later date. He needed a clear mind and the herbs were not helping.

“He would manage.”

Snape flared his nostrils and lowered his voice. “Ivy’s mother was Veela. So no, I do not think he would  _ manage _ . She will not be given to my godson and that is the end of that.”

“You told me her mother was french, Lord Snape.” Kingsley whispered harshly.

“The two are not mutually exclusive.” 

The darker wizard huffed for a moment, partaking in eye rolling even the sarcastic professor deemed excessive. “If she will not be given to Draco then to who? The same scavengers will remain when she is of age, only more desperate than before. Putting a plan in place protects them. I have already promised Aurora to Victor Krum and have been searching for a match for Phila. Entering school without a decision opens them up to dangerous possibilities. It is better if they can focus on their studies instead of boys.”

Snape scoffed. “Promising a daughter to that Bulgarian quidditch player opens her up to a number of venereal diseases. I would reconsider that match if I were you. And are you implying, Lord Shacklebolt, that you are interested in my Ivy?” He would skin the man alive for thinking of his daughter like a prize to be won - even though they had been friends for over fifteen years. She had more magic in her little finger than the minister did in his whole damn body. Ivy would be the downfall of any man she fancied. As a half-Veela she had no reason to worry that man would not adore her in return.

The wizard‘s complexion reddened. “No, Lord Snape. While I’m sure she is beautiful, Ivy is - as the muggles say - a bit rich for my blood.” 

“Indeed.” Severus growled.  _ Quite more than a bit. She would destroy you.  _ “Ivy will be promised to no one but herself. And do not tell me that is not an option. You married Genesis for love and Lysis for the light. Which do you hold at night and which sleeps in her own bedroom? Hmm?” His words were weapons against Lord Shacklebolt’s deep held insecurities. Even Snape would not have brought it up if not backed it now corner.

Kingsley nervously scratched his chin and shook away the sensation of humiliation and thoughts of temptation. “Look, why don’t you and your pet come over for dinner tomorrow night? I’ll have a beef stew going all day and we are celebrating. Prayer, some wine, and laughter together; the Granger girl will come around and perhaps you will begin to reminisce about the joys of fatherhood. Even if you allow Ivy to marry whatever drifter catches her eye.” He winked to emphasize his self deprecating remark.

“Ahh, the very same drifter that pays me a small counterfeit fortune? What a lucky wizard I shall be.”. Severus raised his thick brows. “And how do you expect me to get my pet out of the castle on a school night? This outing will already require more explanation than I wish to provide.”

“It is simple, Lord Snape. You will tell Minerva what your intentions are.” Kingsley put out his own cigar in a similar fashion to the other man and tucked it in his robe pocket. “As men of faith we have spent too long lurking in the shadows whispering lies to evade unkind ears and their intentions. It is time that the light is given the honor of being on display. That is the very least we can give in return for our salvation.”

* * *

“Thank you, Lady Lysis, for your kindness.” Hermione gave her a timid smile that was returned with warmth from her amber eyes.

“Just Lysis, Miss Granger. There are no titles for marked wives. That honor belongs only to our Lords of the light.” She stopped to pick a white flower that grew up in the cracks of the flagstone path and reached forward confidently to tuck it behind the younger witch’s ear. The stem tickled the side of Hermione’s neck and she suppressed a laugh.

“Call me Hermione, please.”

Lysis nodded. “It has been wonderful to finally meet you, Hermione. I must offer my deepest thanks for all you’ve done to vanquish the false lord of darkness. The light may now flourish because of your service. How long have you been seeing Lord Snape?”

“Less than a week actually.” She winced, thinking of what Kingsley had said before she had been whisked away by his wife. “Which is not long enough to be told about his daughter, I suppose.”

“Oh don’t take that to your heart.” Lysis reached around her shoulders and rubbed her upper arm in a motherly embrace. “Kingsley has not been able to claim Genesis, myself or any of the children, forcing him to keep us home. Wizarding society looks down upon bastard children of witches they assume must be whores. Our oldest girl, light shine upon her always, is even at Hogwarts under her mother’s maiden name. We all had to hide for so long to keep dark magic targets off of our heads and it is a tough habit to break. Severus will soften as the months turn to years, do not worry.”

It was much easier said than done. “Have you met her? Ivy, I mean.”

She nodded. “Yes a handful of times. Lord Snape only brought her to the temple. Other than that, she did not leave the dungeons of Hogwarts if he could help it. She was unstable in her youth. Some young witches of the light are too powerful for their own safety. We had similar concerns with the daughter that I birthed but she settled down quickly. Ivy struggled for much longer. It was the most difficult decision I had ever seen Severus have to make.”

“I’m sure it was.” She could not imagine parting with her child.

Lysis changed the subject, speaking of their children and the joys of being a wife but Hermione only listened enough to feign fairly convincing interest while a troubling train of thoughts sucked her deep into the darkness of her mind. What else did she not know about the man she called Master? Could she ever know him well enough to allow him to cleanse her soul?


	7. How Darkness Holds

He ran his fingers through her hair to release the braid and noticed the glamor fall from her face, revealing a dark circle under each eye and strained red thread veins across the white spongy flesh. “Have you been having nightmares, Miss Granger?”

“A couple.” Hermione flushed and nodded. “Perhaps a few more than that, some nights.” 

“What is troubling your mind?” Severus asked, wandlessly retrieving a brush from his bathroom and gently working at her tangled locks.

She tried to sigh, but was interrupted by a nearly ruthless bought of sobbing. “I’m afraid.”

“What do you have to fear, my pet? I can protect you from all that means you harm.” Was it the darkness seeping into her consciousness that had her so on edge, or had she reached the stage of hallucinations? What creatures made of shadows and white noise were haunting her in the night? Snape knew each and every one of them by name. Some he had dueled with varying degrees of success and others he himself had created.

“You can’t though.” Hermione turned into his leg and buried her face, shocking even herself that she was so familiar with a professor that had belittled and tormented her since she was eleven years old. _ What the hell is wrong with me?  _ She made a move to pull back but a firm hold on the back of her head kept her in place.  _ Fight him, dammit!  _ The witch willed her body to push away, sure she could dive and scoot from his grasp if only the muscles would act as her brain commanded them. 

“Now now, Miss Granger, do not stress yourself by attempting the impossible. I cannot allow you to injure yourself or fall victim to exhaustion. Take a few deep breaths and you will feel better” His command was impossible for her to resist, and she felt the slow rise and fall of her burning chest. The pain took her by surprise, given that she had not noticed it.  _ Have I been purposely holding my breath? How long has it been? _

“Just like that, as you do. Inhale for five counts and exhale for the same.” His line of sight was trained on the motion of her sternum and he smiled to himself when she obeyed. “The dark arts look to defeat you in any way possible, searching for weaknesses that you may not have known were there or otherwise may never have become a problem. This may mean you forget to pace your breaths when you are focused on other things. The burning in your lungs usually corrects it.”

_ How is he getting into my head?  _ Hermione pinched her eyes shut harder, and tried to force up occlumency shields that she never quite mastered, and groaning with frustration at her failure.  _ Why can’t I fight him? Has he cast a binding curse one me? Or a confundus charm?  _ His fingers wound though her hair and he pulled back slowly to look her in the eyes. When she met his void like eyes, Hermione expected him to be burning with fury at her accusation, but all she could see was deeply held pity and pain. “Why are you looking at me like that?! What is wrong with me? Get away from me. Get away!” She tried to scurry backwards but remained trapped in his grip. “Please don’t hurt me.” It was only a whisper.

Severus sighed and released her. “I need you to calm yourself, my pet. I did not curse you, but you have been cursed and you are submitting to me because  _ you _ are desperate to survive while your mind is falling victim to the darkness. That is why you are afraid. These barely lucid moments you are having are going to become closer together the longer you allow the curse to remain in place. You have to think, Miss Granger, what do you  _ actually _ want? Are you afraid of me or are you here by your own volition?”

“I-I know I went with you willingly to the temple.” Hermione thought back to her morning of trying to study through thoughts of ending her own life. As ashamed as it made her, and her flushed red cheeks could only tell half the story, she had been so close to acting on the fantasies. They had seemed the only choice at the time. She racked her brain trying to sort through the last several hours, looking for any shred of sanity she had left, and remembered what she had learned sitting at his feet in the marble building only hours before. There was a way out, Hermione was certain of that, but she could not quite remember what it was. Something about a ceremony.  _ Damn it all, what could it be? _

“It is called a marking, Miss Granger.” Professor Snape offered, hoping that she could use the scrap of information to find sense once more.

_ A marking, that was it. I need someone to mark me as their own.  _ “Do you think the only way to escape my darkness is by taking your mark?”

“Oh my sweet girl.” Severus pulled her up into his lap and wrapped his arms around her entirely, wishing he could hold her there for the rest of time to stall her fast approaching end. “I cannot claim to know if there are other possible paths for your healing. What I do know is that I desire and am willing to lead you down this one. It is a great honor to a Lord if his witch trusts him enough to provide her relief from responsibility and pain.”

“How would it be decided that I should be marked by you?” This time she only shivered slightly and Snape rubbed his palm up and down over her bare back. “And what does it fee-” Hermione stopped herself, remembering being warned by both wise witches and muggle women alike not to ask questions she could not live with the answers to. “-how does it all work?”

“Well, first you would fast for three days and three nights consuming only a potion I would provide you. It is an act of proving your trust in me. If you could endure it, and still were inclined to follow through, then we would invite at least one wizard of our faith to be our witness of the light, one female guest to act as your maid - a woman to bathe as well as dress before the ceremony and guide you to the fire where you’d say your final prayers - and an additional male guest - of the faith or not - to be your handtamer.”

_ A male… maybe Ronald? Or Harry? Would they even come if I were to tell them what I was doing?  _ “What does the handtamer do?”

“The tamer stands on your hands while I mark you.” Severus clenched his teeth, remembering the more gruesome aspects of his faith and trying not to let his stomach roll while he recalled the stench of burning human flesh. “He is meant to subdue the witch if she writhes from being branded. In tradition, she chooses someone she loves and can count on to assist her through the agony without reluctance. That someone would know why she was making the choice and have been made certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that the mark was what she wished to do. When it was over, you would be redressed in your white robes and sit by my feet while I eat a traditional feast dinner - as do the rest of the guests - and for every bite I take, I would feed you one to signify my promise to care for you just as well as I care for myself. Once the meal is finished, and the guests leave us - we would consummate our union.”

“So that is what I would need to do to rid myself of the curse? All of it?”  _ As if a brand and eternal ownership is insignificant? I must certainly be losing my mind. _

“Nearly. The final major requirement would be the conception of my heir.”

“... your heir?”  _ A baby. His child. Inside me. Then outside me. How can I agree? But what happens if I don’t? _

“Yes,” Snape quipped. “I would require you to bare me a son, just as the faith states you should. Giving the light a child is the most sacred sign of commitment. ”

“What if the baby was a girl, Master?” She challenged, a curious glow in her eyes that he speculated was the remnants of her floaty feeling from the vicious flogging she’d received when they returned from the temple.

Severus stroked her hair again, pushing a lock behind her ear. “Then we would have a daughter older than our son. An heir to carry on the Snape name is non negotiable, Miss Granger. But I would not blame you for deciding to look elsewhere to ensure there are no other ways to expel evil magic. For a girl as smart as you to simply accept this would be extremely out of character. That would make me more deeply concerned than I am now, and I already fear for your life.”

_ Is he lying to me?  _ She tried to focus on the thrumming of her heart in her chest, breathe deeply to test her lungs and flex her joints to see if she was already deteriorating. There was no certainty that she could trust herself anymore to notice such a change. If he was telling her the truth, then the dark magic Bellatrix and the horcruxes had left in her body would prevent her from noticing the symptoms that could alert her to the end of her life. At least until it was too late.  _ Am I dying? _

“Not now, but you soon will be.” Professor Snape regretted the truth in his words. “I would give you only a matter of weeks before the invasion on your mind is impossible to resist. Left alone your body would fail from malnutrition or you would be unable to direct yourself away from your suicidal urges. I am terribly sorry that this has happened to you, Miss Granger. If I knew any other way to help…”

“It’s a lot to absorb all at once.”

“I understand. I am aware that this prospect can be overwhelming but you’re an intelligent young witch and you needed to know what you were considering before you became too attached to the idea. If romanticism clouded your judgement and led you to do something you would one day regret, I could never forgive myself. Is that what you fear? Waking up one day and realizing you have been trapped with me?”

“It’s not that,” She struggled to sift through her impaired mind, reaching desperately for the last strain of sanity that she had any hope of grasping and nearly setting out a sigh of relief when she made contact.  _ I love him. Why do I love him? Is it me, or is it  _ **_them_ ** _? Or worse, what if Snape was fabricating her feelings already? _

“Shh, my sweet girl.” He leaned in and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “There is not a chance I would do that to you, Miss Granger. You are the only woman I have ever begged for the light to grace me with, and taking your choice from you would defeat the purpose entirely. If you were to offer your submission to me tonight, I would make preparations for the ceremony immediately, but I will not make you do anything you do not choose for yourself. In my life I have been many terrible things but a manipulative philanderer was not and will never be one of them. Please believe me.”

Hermione nodded, wiping her nose with the now shrunken handkerchief and gazed up at him with swollen doe eyes. “How would I do that, Master? Offer myself, if that’s what I wanted?”

Severus smiled warmly, refusing the hope that threatened to well in his chest. It was still his pet’s choice and her’s it would remain until the very end. “All you would have to do is ask me to take you, dear pet, I could not help but give you the world.” Snape laughed and buried his face into what little she wore of her temple garments, which were slowly bleeding from white back to their natural black as the charms fell. “For the rest of my life.”

“Okay.” The young witch stiffened and leaned back a short distance from the wizard she sat upon, resulting in him giving her a curious crooked stare. Hermione shifted a bit on her tailbone, assuring herself she had the nerve to do so, and swallowed hard before she spoke. “I wish to be worthy of you, Master. Will you please mark me as yours?” Her lips quivered with each word and pulse quickened in her veins but it was lost on the man across from her. 

All he could do was stare. Stare at her voluminous hair that he adored falling asleep in, the curve of her supple lips, the flush of red that cascaded over her cheekbones and the charming way she wrinkled her nose when she was nervous.

“Yes, my pet. It would be an honor to care for you.”

* * *

Eventually his pet fell asleep - an unfortunate symptom of her outburst of emotion - and he called a house elf to watch over her. Leaving his quarters was not something he wished to do, but Lord Shackebolt had made a point. If he could not tell Minvera McGonagall of his plans, how could he stand the entire wizarding world knowing what he had done when he sent the marriage paperwork to the ministry? 

Severus paced in front of the headmistresses office for a solid ten minutes before he requested to enter. His hands trembled, the words he had rehearsed in his mind as he brought Miss Granger back to the castle were nowhere to be found. Despite his best efforts the conversation to come was hardly something that could be prepared for with a script. Knowing what Minerva would say - after her choice to worship the light in an  _ alternative  _ way - was about as safe to predict as it was to stand too close to Longbottom while he brewed in class. While this had the potential to be fine, it also could go horribly wrong. The gargoyle moved aside without a password, recognizing his trusted magic, and he had no choice but to climb the stairs. McGonagall could not know that he was hesitating.

_ Show no weakness.  _ Snape told himself as he approached her desk where she stopped signing documents and watched him expectantly.  _ This is for the greater good. _

Snape spoke the words he had been taught since joining the faith. “Lady Minerva, I desperately seek your council.” Severus bent himself at the waist, and waited while she pondered his request for assistance. As his muscles began to cramp from the deep bow - a reminder that he was no longer the young wizard he once was - she spoke.

“Rise, Lord Snape. And be seated.” Headmistress McGonagall gestured to a pair of chairs by her fire. She poured them both a glass of wine and placed his in his hand. They sipped in silence, staring too deeply into the flames. The witch broke it. “You have never sought my council before. Albus was your confidant and I am honored - as well as quite surprised - to be taking his place. What wisdom do you seek?”

Snape tilted back his head as he took an oversized and ungraceful gulp from his glass. “I am courting a young witch that wishes to take my mark and I seek reassurance that this will not compromise my employment status at Hogwarts.”

Her lips pursed into a tight pucker. “Who is this  _ young witch _ ?” 

“Miss Granger.”

“Oh Merlin,” Minerva sputtered to herself. “Not a young Slytherin girl? What possible darkness could the prize student of Gryffindor have to be redeemed from? Did she try Firewhisky for the first time? Share a cot with Mister Weasley? What excuse could you possibly have for starting this, Severus?”

Snape was less than amused. “She harms herself,  _ Lady McGonagall _ . Her blood has been tainted by the cursed blade LeStrange used and it seeks to be let. She will only be free of the darkness if she drains every drop of blood from her body or she brings forth a creature of the light. Her thoughts have already branched into suicidal ideation. You know this as well as I do that there are few choices left for the girl.”

“And you want her?” It was an accusation with a shadow hope and presented as a question. There were very few wizards that Minerva could trust with such a task, and Snape was unsure that he was one of them.

Severus nodded. “I would protect the girl with my life. I  _ have _ before and am prepared to continue on a more permanent basis.”

“How far have you taken things?”

“I have been disciplining her and I brought her to the temple. She met Lord Shacklebolt’s second wife, Lysis, and they invited us over to celebrate their successful conception tomorrow evening. If you can permit her to go.” Snape cleared his throat, and locked his jaw slightly. “We both know that I am quite familiar with darkness.”

Minerva stiffened. “Indeed.”

“Then please hear me when I tell you that Miss Granger does not have much time.” He wished it wasn’t true, but her thoughts were growing out of control. “Something must be done soon, and she has submitted herself to me. I would like your blessing and approval before I do this but if I cannot get it, that will not stop me from having the girl. I intend to begin brewing her potions tonight and send an owl to the dress makers for her ceremonial clothes in the morning.”

“Can the conception be put off?” Lady McGonagall pressed, but frowned as she knew the answer already. “If she wore her blessed gowns and visited the temple regularly for  _ rinsing _ ? Just to get by until June?”

Severus shook his head. “Regrettably, no.”

“A marked, married and pregnant student at Hogwarts?” She shook her head with disbelief and wished this was Dumbledore’s problem instead of her own. The batty old man would have handled this with a twinkle on his eye instead of an exasperated sigh. “The board of governors would have my wand snapped for violating a dozen different statues if I allowed it. They do not fear me as they did Albus. Miss Granger would have to either publicly drop out of Hogwarts then switch to entirely independent study for her NEWTs and keep things quiet for as long as possible.”

It was a shame to dull such potential, but he conceded. “Fine. I will tell her that she will be studying in my quarters from this point forward.”

“Tell her?” McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Snape answered. “She will be upset yet remain obedient.”

“The girl must certainly be losing her footing.” Minerva poured herself a second glass of wine with a flick of her wand and pondered the predicament Miss Granger had found herself in. “Shall the marking be secret kept?”

Severus shook his head. “There is no need to do so, and Kingsley is still coping with the consequences of shielding his own nuptials, his wives and children have no claim to money, status or a name. I will not do that to my little witch.” His lips pulled up at the corners at the thought and he longed to be holding her in a tangle of bedsheets, instead of speaking to his superior about the very possibility of making it his fantasy come true.

“And what of your  _ other  _ little witch?” She refilled his own glass when he sighed, deciding the potions master needed the relief much more than she did. “Ivy is smart enough to determine why you sent her away and that the threat is no longer active. I would not be surprised if she is hurt by your lack of action to rectify the situation. She always adored you, Lord Snape. You are the only parent she has ever known.”

His fingers tightened ever so slightly over his glass. The headmistress and minister were right, it was time for action. “I cannot know for certain that she wishes to come home to me, but I will bring her to Hogwarts for the marking ceremony to act as the maiden for my wife. If she decides to return to France it will be of her own volition. Miss Granger and myself can have many more children, but Ivy only has one life. For her to live it to her greatest potential is my only wish for her.”

“Oh hippogriff dung, Severus!” Minerva snapped and slammed down her glass on the table between them. “Do not pretend to root every one of your actions in altruistic intentions. The war is over, Tom Riddle is dead and your services are no longer necessary. The only loyalty you must maintain is to the light, other than that  _ you _ live for  _ you _ . Miss Granger could have any Lord she wished for, and you have taken her as your own because  _ you _ want her.

“Furthermore you’ve been an increasingly miserable pain in my neck since Ivy began attending Beauxbatons. As devoted as you may be to the light, you are first and foremost a man. Men wish for beautiful young wives and to bring up respectable daughters. There is no need for shame in this regard, but if you wish to lie about your intentions all the same, feed the overgrown tales to a willing glutton. They are everywhere you look but I am not one of them, Lord Snape. Take the girl where you must, and mark her if you insist it needs to be done, but do not speak falsehoods to ease your guilty conscience. In the name of the darkness or the light, we all must live with what we have done.”


	8. Harsh Lessons

Buggy yellow eyes and droopy ears greeted him when he woke up to an incessant whispering of “Master Snape, you have a visitor.” Nearly on repeat. The elf seemed relieved when he sat up, and Severus knew why. They all dreaded touching him, for fear they would be launched away or shocked by one of his curses.

“Who is here?” He demanded in whisper, and suppressed pressed his yawn. Once he retrieved his wand from the bedside drawer and switched out his loungewear for a set of dayrobes, he cast a  _ tempus.  _ It had only been three hours since his blasted meeting with the headmistress. This marking would be the death of him. 

“Muckword the Gringotts goblin, Sir. He said he brings you a complimentary report. I asked him to leave it on your desk but he insisted you must be present.” The trembling elf stepped out of his path as he left the sleeping area in with his robes trailing behind him.

Severus remembered the witch in his bed and cast a spell to ensure she would not wake. The girl required her rest and his meeting could not be interrupted. “Keep an eye on her and let me know when she wakes. And stay out of sight.” He added before stepping through the door into his study. If lucid when she woke, Miss Granger would resent being babysat. No matter how necessary supervising her was.

“Muckword,” He nodded politely at the pudgy stout creature with an even longer nose and greasier hair than his own. “What do you have for me?”

The goblin pulled a piece of paper from his linen shirt that the professor recognized as a receipt for the transaction, then turned it around to refer to his notes. “I delivered the requested number of galleons directly to Miss Ivy Vortrula Snape on Friday evening after her classes. As per established procedure, I disillusioned myself and observed for a half hour before making my presence known and leaving the currency in Miss Snape’s possession. The witch sat in her day clothes, studying with a group of wizards and witches she appeared friendly with, but expressed agitation directed at their casual groping of one another.”

Severus cringed, recalling his thirteen year olds behaved in the Slytherin common room in his day and considered that the French likely had even fewer wards in place to prevent such contact between the sexes. “Was Ivy also being  _ touched _ in such a way? Against her will or otherwise?”

“Not at all.” Muckword reassured him. “If anyone had attempted it, they likely would have been set on fire. We would take that girl any time to secure our more precious vaults. More efficient than a dragon for certain.”

He rolled his eyes as was expected when jeered by a goblin, but was quite pleased to hear that his daughter was not caught canoodling with some dunderheaded wizard that lacked the good sense to keep his distance for her name alone, not yet addressing her reputation. “And her health? Did she seem well?”

The short creature shrugged. “Yes, mostly. She must have cut her hair short over the summer but it is growing back. Still thin but no more than before. I would have thought she should be taller by now.”

“Her mother was just shy of a meter and a half. If she takes after that side of the family, she may be done gaining height. I shall measure her when she visits next, and have a mediwitch give her a physical as well.” Snape picked up his quil and jotted down a few notes. “Should I not worry about replacing her ceremonial garments, then?” He asked thoughtlessly, and shook off the fear speaking of his faith evoked within him when the goblin did not react poorly. Muckword had no place to judge.

“No, everything should fit as before. Though I could cast a reading charm next time if you need more detailed measurements.” He offered, clearly eager to leave the office. Goblins had busy schedules and errands like this one kept them away from the bank for longer than they preferred. “If not, I will just take my potions and be on my way.” Muckword put the slip on the desk that was at his eye level and Severus slid it onto an open desk drawer to be dealt with later.

In turn, he retrieved three nearly midnight black potion vials that he gave to the long nailed creature. “They are the same as before. Mind your dosage. Too few drops will become ineffective with time and too many could be lethal. There is no known antidote” The claws scraped across his palm, reminding Snape of the dark master he wished to never think of again, and he suppressed a shutter.

The goblin revealed a row of pointed yellow teeth in a smile and nodded dreamily. “It is always a pleasure doing business with you, Severus Snape. Enjoy that witch in the next room. She smells delectable.” Muckword ran a pointed tongue over his lips and waddled away, the spelled door closing and locking behind him.

_ If the only wish this life grants me is that I never have to see that grimy slug again, I shall die content.  _ As far as Severus was concerned, goblins were nasty perverts. 

* * *

Hermione Granger awoke in her professors bed, painfully alone, and began to put together the pieces from the night before. What a fool she had been, sobbing in front of the potions master she looked up to and craved the respect of since she was eleven years old. Not only that, but throwing wild accusations towards and doubting the intentions of the wizard offering to save her life. What had gotten into her?

Professor Snape was offering to marry her and spend the rest of his life protecting her from the dangers of dark magic. Why would he do such a thing? Of course it was not as if he ever liked her or her friends but still had maintained enough loyalty to the greater good to protect them from dark wizards, clueless ministry employees and showboating authors. Harry frequently went on rants - that Ronald rolled his eyes at and Hermione patiently listened to - about Severus Snape being the bravest man he had ever known. Realizing that the boy who lived had quite a pool to choose from, Hermione decided he must have been right. Severus Snape was brave and selfless. Why else would he be agreeing to marry her when his heart still belonged to Lily Potter?

A wave of sadness nearly knocked her over, pounding against her from behind in an attempt to take away her air. Snape was to be her Lord and it occurred to her only in that moment that that man would never love her.  _ My husband will never see me as anything but less than  _ **_her_ ** _. I will always come second to a dead woman.  _ Sure, she believed him when he said that he would care for her - he had proven his trustworthiness in the war - but looking after someone out of obligation instead of adoration were two very different occupations. How would she ever make it up to him? If he did not  _ want _ her, in what way could she make herself less of a burden on his time or magic?

With determination to not make a nuisance of herself, Hermione dressed in the fresh uniform that had been laid on the bedside table and went to work about tidying the circular chambers. She took the articles of his clothing that had been dropped to the floor and placed them in the hamper for the house elves to clear away, cast a freshening charm on the linens before making his bed and transfigured a stray piece of goose down into a feather duster so she could address the long neglected book spines on his main shelf.

Her eyes wandered to the various titles as she tried to clean them, finding an even mix of master level potions guides and dark grimoires belonging to families like the Malfoys, LaStranges, Blacks and Tom Riddle himself. Proximity to such works made her blood run cold, yet she felt a magnetic pull towards the journals and works. Could they exclusively hold the secrets to the magical world? Information she would willingly give her life to sneak only a peak at?

“Stop right there!” Severus snapped, his hand wrapping around the wrist of a hand she had not even realized was reaching for a book. “Those are not for you. Wait for me by the fire.” He commanded and she obeyed, wondering if she was supposed to take her clothing off this time or follow his directions as quickly as possible. “If we are alone in this room and I have not instructed otherwise, I expect you to be nude.”

Shades of pink flooded her cheeks and Hermione undressed, folding the clothes to be worn again later. She was sure she had classes starting within the hour and Ginny would give her funny enough looks for missing dinner the night before without her showing up in a wrinkled blouse. When the dungeon drafts began to chill her intimate regions, she took the pillow he tended to toss down to her and knelt on it, only then glancing to what the black robed man was doing. Severus Snape tapped each of the dark arts books individually, some vanishing entirely and others becoming more innocent looking titles like  _ Hogwarts: A History  _ and  _ Mastering The Pitch: A New Fan’s Pocket Guide.  _ She wondered if they would show those texts inside, but the warning look her master gave her did not encourage the young witch to find out.

“You are not to touch anything in this room without my explicit permission.” Professor Snape ordered through grit teeth and sat in his armchair with a wince.  _ What happened to him?  _ His hand waved her off. “None of your concern. Onto the business at hand. You will be punished for your nosiness, Miss Granger. That draw you had to my texts was the darkness within and I cannot allow you to blindly follow it without consequence. However, there are other matters to attend to beforehand. I have some unfortunate news.”

_ Unfortunate news? Were Harry or Ron injured during auror training? Was she failing her classes? Had her parents remembered who she was and put themselves in danger?  _ Hermione began to breathe heavily and Snape shot her a look that could only mean ‘stop’, so she did. Her breath came a bit easier at his command and she inhaled and exhaled in time with his nods. “There you go, my pet. Relax. They are all fine.”

“What is wrong-” She asked too urgently, then remembered to tack on a convincing “master?” at the end.

Severus reached down to pet the girl on top of her head, the kinked but soft texture of her hair between his fingertips a soothing presence. The witch would not take his command well, but she would take it. He was certain of that. “You are going to be withdrawing from your classes at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Today”

Her jaw dropped and she took several moments to pick it up off the floor. “After all the work I’ve done, I have to leave? Without my diploma or an apprenticeship? All of this for nothing?”

“Five lashes for forgetting to address me properly, and five for your immature outburst. I will  _ not  _ tolerate petulence, Miss Granger. You will speak respectfully or you shall not retain the privilege to speak at all.” He commanded. “If you would have allowed me to explain, I would have waited for you to compose yourself like any decent wizard aware of your situation would, and then explained that you will be continuing your education as an independent study. The headmistress is aware of my intentions to mark you and has decided that it would be most prudent to make it appear as if you stopped being my student before we became at all physically connected. Since I have not yet bedded you, only administered necessary discipline to my student, this is not entirely a lie. Your professors will be preparing your work and sending it to my chambers, where you will be residing from this point forward for your own protection. I cannot place mind amplification charms on the entire castle without giving myself an aneurysm from the sheer volume of it, but I can keep tabs on you rather easily if you remain in this room. This means you will not leave here without my explicit permission. Is that understood?”

“How can I study if I can’t use any of your books or get to the library? And won’t my friends worry about where I’ve disappeared to?” She demanded, torn between outrage at being stripped of her rights and guilt for being rude to a wizard so set on protecting her. “Master, I do not understand but I wish to.”

He pinched his black eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose with this thumb and forefinger. “Very well, pet. I am not a tyrant and aim to be quite reasonable. I will take you to the library every day and as well as retrieve you at noon take you to the Great Hall for lunch where you can continue to sit with your house. Breakfast and dinner will be taken here in my chambers. From this point forward I need you to ask yourself a question, not just today, but all days and in nearly every application.” It was a lesson he wished she could have learned at eleven instead of as a grown woman. Such a question could have saved her skin on more than one occasion that he knew of, and likely dozens he did not.

Lowering her eyes in shame, she nodded and waited for him to continue but he paused for her to calm herself. When she was ready, she looked back at him. “What is the question, Master?”

“Ask yourself, Miss Granger, ‘if this is the way it must be for the rest of time, can I live with it?’. That means question everything and change it if you are desperate. Question what you read, what you are told and even what you think. As you now know, your mind is nowhere near as infallible as you once believed. I have reason to theorize that the darkness of Mister Potter being a horcrux was influencing you this entire time. Perhaps even Mister Weasley as well, given his affinity for losing his temper at the least opportune moments. You can believe no one, and should always question if someone can be trusted.” Severus implored her to take his words to heart, and resisted the urge to look into her mind to see where it was going. If she were ever to integrate back into the wizarding world once she recovered, his pet would need to remember how to carry on a proper conversation.

“What about you?” Hermione asked, almost instantly wishing she had not. “Should I question you, Master?”

He thought for a moment, then nodded. “If you can do so respectfully, and at the proper moments, then yes. Question away.” If she would take the instruction with proper reverence without exceptions, he could accept her inquiring mind prodding at his motives from time to time. “Do you have any questions in mind?”

The witch nodded sheepishly, and lowered her voice to be polite. “What happened to your daughter, Master? Kingsley seemed to speak as if she had gone somewhere.”

“Nothing  _ happened _ to her, Miss Granger.” Severus stiffened at the horrific thought. “As her father, I made sure of that. When I became suspect of Mad Eye not being who he claimed to be, and with that damn tournament going on, I made the choice to have her sent to Beauxbatons. They had an affiliated primary school that she began by attending before moving to the main building nearby. Her mother went there and legacy students obtain admittance fairly easily.”

“Oh.” Hermione bit at her lower lip and chewed thoughtfully. “How old is she, Master? Your daughter, I mean. And her name is...”

“ _Ivy_ is thirteen now.” Snape smiled into the darkness at the thought of his only child. “She is the absolute greatest gift the light has ever given me. Her mother was French - as I said before - but was never involved in her life. Mothers are a luxury in my faith while children to raise in the light are a necessity. Her future was already decided when I was looking for a surrogate and I paid down some of her expenses for the necessary discretion. Since the war is over and my daughter remained hidden, I believe that means I owe her mother the same courtesy.”

“Now that the war  _ is  _ over, why haven’t you brought her back to Hogwarts?”

Severus brushed his fingers through his submissive’s hair and let out a deep breath. “I sent her away four years ago and she has never been able to visit for summers or holiday because of the danger should she be discovered by The Dark Lord. In fact, I was well prepared to die for the light and never see her again. Before Ivy was born I put a trust in place for the rest of her education and to allow her to establish herself or find a wizard to marry while still living comfortably. She was nine when we last parted ways and I do not believe she misses me any longer. I am merely an idea. She does receive my letters each week but I have not gotten a thoughtful response in months. Annually, I receive an envelope of school photos so those need to be enough.” Receiving that blue package in early June was always the best part of his entire year. 

“I’d love to meet her someday, and help you raise her..” If that was all she could offer Professor Snape, she would do so.

“There is very little in this life that would bring me greater joy.” Snape caressed her cheek thoughtfully. “But as parents, we must do what is right for our child over what is right for ourselves and I believe she is happy where she was. I will send for her tomorrow so she may attend your marking, but Ivy will likely wish to return to school. I am not someone she wishes to spend her time around.”

“How do you know that? Four years is a long time. Girls change in the blink of an eye, really.” She settled in against him. Severus watched her, her face longer and sharper than the eleven year old he’d met on her first day of potions class. The witch had grown out of girlhood and blossomed into a gorgeous young woman that he was limitlessly fortunate to have on his arm.

_ Light damn me if I do not love her.  _ “That they do.” He closed his eyes as well and kissed the top of her head. “But we have nothing in common. I am nothing but a grouchy old man in her eyes.”

Hermione’s jaw wretched open with a yawn she failed to resist. “You don’t know that, Master.”

“I am a potions master which means I am quite good at hypothesizing outcomes based on predictable reactions.” He snipped. “If I were you, I would learn to trust my judgment regarding my own child.”

Her nose nuzzled into his knee, and she inhaled the scent of the house elve’s choice of wool soap. “Do you send Ivy care packages? Little sweets, pictures and cuddly things that remind her of home? Every time my parents did that for me it would leave me full of warm fuzzy feelings and fond memories.” 

“My pet, she lived with  _ me  _ in this very room. You and the rest of the students did not know she even existed and she was kept after by house elves. Do you think that being held prisoner in this room - save for a few months over the summer - would result in  _ fuzzy _ feelings or  _ fond  _ memories for a child?”

Hermione sat herself up straighter, eyes opened, and Snape groaned when he had to strain his own to look at her. Being in the dungeons with no natural sunlight could be a strain on one's vision. “Well what  _ did _ you do together? Nine years sounds like an awful long time to do nothing worthy of remembering, Master.”

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her temple. “May the light fill you, my dear, for caring. Ivy had a _ witch’s first potions _ set Kingsley got her for Christmas that came with a book Titled  _ One-Hundred-And-Two Candy Brews _ and I think we did each one probably half a dozen times.” Severus chuckled to himself. “She loved making the root beer rock candy that allowed her to taste the air like a snake. It even split her tongue at the end for a while. Every time she would make it she would forget that these dungeons taste like damp towels and potions fumes but she still kept eating it because she loved root beer candy.”

“What else?” His pet smiled, settling her body back against his. 

“I taught her to play chess. She exploded my king in fits of uncontrollable magic any time she was on the path to losing. I probably bought twenty of them before she lost interest. The game was a short lived pastime for us both.” Severus fought his own use to flea the emotional conversation, and shook with another uncomfortable laugh at what the witch’s demands had brought back. “I would also make her breakfast every morning. We had a routine we did when I asked her what she wanted. I would suggest the most unappealing breakfast food possible for a child - a plain grapefruit or a piece of dry toast. She would laugh over it, and then I would make her an egg sandwich or belgian waffles. Those were Ivy’s favorites. She preferred the waffles with chopped Honeydukes chocolate or a sliced up banana.”

“That all sounds like it’s worth remembering to me.” Hermione sighed, fighting her instincts to beg for a real kiss more than she fought with him. “It sounds to me like you showed her a great amount of love.”

He snaked his arms around his young witch, pulling her body up against his own with grip she would not escape until he willed it. “Of course I did. I will always love her. Now, bend on over and I will deliver your punishment. There is no more putting it off, as I have an eight o’clock potions class on Monday mornings.”

He shifted his witch over his lap, and rubbed circles on her bare skin to warm it up. It was marked a bit from the days before, but his flogger had not left much damage after their visit to the temple. Severus had found his heart was not in punishing her, especially while she cried and struggled with retaining her self control, but he had needed to deliver something resembling the promised punishment. A Lord owed the witches in his charge consistency and honesty, which meant doing exactly what he had stated he would.

“I will strike you twenty times, my pet. Before each set of five, you will tell me a lesson that you have learned today, and then we will use the pain to make sure you will not soon forget it. Begin now.” The professor flattened his hand for maximum contact. A cupped slap on her behind could make a great deal of noise, but not make the amounts of contact he preferred.

“Alright Master,” Hermione bit her lip, thinking as hard as she could to make a list of his commands that she could stay a few steps ahead of.

“Do not attempt to rig this on your favor, Miss Granger, as you will certainly fail. I will even offer you a lesson for free, leaving you with only three recall instead of four. Never say I am unfair.” He lifted his arm nearly above his head, ready to drill the point into her flesh. “You are at my mercy, meaning in any battle between us you will  _ not  _ win.” With that he brought down his hand, alternating  _ snacks! _ on each cheek while she kicked lightly. When he was finished, Severus took a moment to admire his handiwork and smiled. The witch would remember that. “Go on.”

His pet shook, holding back a cry, and nodded obediently. “Question everything, because no one it should be blindly trusted. Not even myself. If I can’t live with what  _ is _ , then I must change it myself.”

“Excellent.” Snape praised, and she relaxed slightly just before he renewed his assault on her rump. Her yelps of pain and surprise sent a rush of blood to his groin, and he saw stars for no more than a few seconds, as she breathed heavily and sniffled across his thighs. “Keep going. I should not have to ask again.”

“Umm…” Hermione stalled, having lost her careful list to the stinging pain in her flesh. The popular hex had nothing on her master’s hand. “I should not touch your things without permission or instruction.”

He flexed his fingers before choosing to use the hard covered potions book on his lamp table to deliver the next five blows that incidentally succeeded in bringing forth streams of tears that soaked into his pants. Severus would not have time to change them before class so he would just have to live with the discoloration. 

“And-“ His witch inhaled sharply, an attempt at a less pitiful sounding sniffle. “I will not go anywhere without your permission and escort.”

“Very good.” Snape smiled, and rained down upon her the last of her punishment much harder than before, hoping to break her down enough for the girl to have a peaceful and quiet morning so he could get his work done. When he helped her up, wandlessly vanishing the snotty mess all over her face, he came to believe his attempts had been successful. “You look so beautiful, my pet. Absolutely marvelous.”

When the girl ceased her shivering, he wrapped her in a blanket and deposited her in the less worn chair in front of a roaring fire with the promise that her books would be delivered by house elf when her professors had the time to mark her assignments. Hermione nearly protested, insisting that she could mark her own books if given the pages, but thought better of it when he gave her a harsh look. 

“Let yourself be cared for, Miss Granger. Not all of us are fortunate enough to have someone willing to do so.” Professor Snape turned to leave, then stopped while putting on his robes. “That lesson is free, just this first time.” And then he was gone.


	9. Losing Her (Mind)

The potions master swept into the room, spoke a few harsh words to his third year class and directed them to the instructions for a contraceptive potion that he had spelled onto the board. It was a day he hated to teach - his own faith banning the use of such potions for marked witches and their Lords and discouraged it in other applications - but Severus saw the necessity of the lesson. By forth or fifth year his students were always dripping with excess hormones and angst that made preventing a hoard of waddling witches with bursting wombs and empty minds was a worthwhile endeavor. That did not mean he felt  _ right  _ about the lesson when he taught it. It was not as if that he had stayed entirely true to his morals before. Crimes committed in the process of earning the Dark Lord’s trust, as well as lusting after a married witch, would have been enough to damn him should he have died in the final battle. However, his purposeful sin has proven worth while in the end.

Snape scoffed, ignoring the startled looks of his students who waited for scorning words that were not coming. The battle was certainly not the first time his sinful nature had been rewarded with something marvelous. Just like the old bat liked to say…

_ “Anything may be permissible for the greater good.” Albus chided him, smiling ear to ear while they waited at the temple office across from the fireplace. The Light Of Redemption temples ran exclusively on a closed floo network. Only Lords, marked wives and children born of the light could utilize the portals through from one temple to the other all around the world. They were waiting for a French visitor. “You will adore her, Severus my boy. Tula is simply breathtaking and smart as a whip. I have never met a better pairing than the two of you shall be.” _

_ Snape blew a strand of hair out of his face and crossed his arms defiantly, ignoring how it made him feel like an irritated child. He  _ **_was_ ** _ feeling irritated at the moment and, though he would never admit it, more than a little childish. “I am not looking for a wife, Albus. Only a vessel to bare my son. Stop trying to sell me a cow when all I have come to purchase is milk for my tea. What kind of name is ‘Tula’ anyway? I thought she was French.” _

_ Twinkling eyes narrowed at his remark, and he received a glare over moon shaped spectacles. “If you must know, her name is Lorna Vortula Delacour. She was not  _ **_born_ ** _ to the french side of the family, but when she was orphaned a childless uncle took her in.”  _

_ The vision Severus had brought of a dark haired beauty baring a tongue that knew many forgein tricks dissipated. “If I was looking for an English mutt I could have gone with any of the local matches the temple offered. Since you have clarified that she is not French, would you mind telling me what she is?” _

_ “Veela.” _

_ Snape raised an eyebrow. “Quarter? Eighth? The first non zero numeral appearing several dozen spaces past the decimal?” He trailed off, failing at sounding entirely disinterested, and pulled a hand rolled cigarette from an inter robe locket. Hogwarts did not allow him to smoke on castle grounds - with the exception of his office while sealed off from students - and the temple actively encouraged the stress relieving practice. _

_ “Oh no, Severus. Tula is full blooded.” Albus waved off the billowing smoke from the space between them. “Is that a problem?” _

_ He shrugged. “No more problematic than the rest of my existence. If it were entirely my choice, I would never be here arranging such a ridiculous meeting. But you and the light both seem to agree that I am a ruined man without a tribute and so I am going to make one. That does not mean I will do so with a smile on my face.” _

_ Dumbledore readjusted the dark green hat on top of his head and fidgeted playfully with the tassels on his robe ties. “It must be exhausting maintaining such a level of anger and negativity at all hours of the day. I do hope having a child softens you. For the babe’s sake at least.” _

And it had. Not as much as the child’s mother had, but parenthood did its own small part in smoothing his rougher edges. Oh, Severus put up the same abrasive front and trusted no one - he would not confuse his enhanced emotional intelligence with a need to become foolishly unguarded - but he was a much better man after Ivy’s birth than before. The - admittedly mild - suffering of others was no longer something that brought a smile to his face. He had seen enough suffering in Lorna’s eyes in the hours after Ivy’s birth that it would last him a lifetime. 

Professor Snape dismissed his class early, wishing to write his letter without being watched, and settled in with his unremarkable parchment, having elected against using his official Hogwarts letter head. This was far from official business. Severus was bound by no real obligation - legal, religious or moral - to communicate his decisions to anyone, but he was a wizard of the light. If it meant taking a meaningless five minutes from his day to give someone the best thirty seconds of their year, he could do that. If only to further rinse his cleansed soul.

_ Dear Lorna, _

_ I do hope this letter finds you well. It has been too long since we sat down over a cup of tea to discuss our notable common interest. Should you wish to arrange such a meeting, please inform me when your schedule would allow such leisure.  _

_ I am writing to inform you of my impending marking of Miss Hermione Jane Granger, scheduled to take place this upcoming Sunday beginning the minute before midnight in my quarters here at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ivy shall be in attendance as my new wife’s bath maiden which, as you know, is a great honor for a young girl. Considering this is her first time performing such a task, and I have an invitation to offer, if you would like to bear witness I would be unopposed. I shall amend the wards to permit your entrance for the quarter hour following half past eleven. Do be prompt. All that I ask in return is that you apply inconspicuous glamours and refrain from conversing or making physical contact with Ivy. Thirteen is a particularly volatile age and I shall not have you confusing her developing mind or magic with your infuriating habit of popping in and out of the picture at your own selfish convenience. _

_ May the light be with you always, _

_ Severus Tobias Snape _

When it came time to address the letter, while standing outside of the owlery and failing to ignore the call back to his quarters to deal with his pet’s distress, Severus considered approaching the topic with brutal honesty and snickered at the possibility

_ Lorna I-Love-No-One-But-Myself Dela-whore _

_ Upon Her Current Lover’s Phallus  _

_ Whatever Cesspool Deadbeat Mothers Frequent _

Though he was wounded enough for the thought to cross his mind, Snape was not that cruel. And as much as he hated to admit it, the sentiments were far more emotional than they were accurate. So he addressed the letter, gave it to a school owl and headed down to the dungeons where his future could help him forget the pains of his past. 

_ Lorna Vortula Delacour (Née Snape) _

_ Exact Location Unknown _

_ Perhaps Somewhere In Spain Or Portugal _

His child’s mother had gotten what she wanted in the end. Absolution without responsibility and freedom without consequence. Wherever she was in the world, Lorna was probably quite happy. And Severus Snape could not entirely convince himself that she did not deserve it. Despite her lack of care for anyone but herself, the woman had given him the greatest gift of his life. She had birthed his first child. And  _ oh, Merlin  _ did Lord Snape adore his daughter. 

It was because of his blind and unconditional adoration that Ivy had been the perfect avenue for dark forces to silently enact their repugnant revenge.

***

Infected with dark magic or not, Hermione was certain she was losing her bloody mind. 

When her charms assignment arrived, a scrap of paper with assigned tasks and reading pages tucked inside her textbook, she dove in to stimulate her wandering mind. She made herself a cup of tea, wrapped in a smaller terry cloth robe she found in the adjoining bathroom, and settled in to read ten pages on using charms to change the directives of certain sentient appearing household objects. For example, she theorized, she could use these spells to charm a vanity mirror into telling her she looked strong, capable and confident instead of giving tips on what she should change about her choice of clothing. A piercing pain started behind her eyes only a paragraph into her reading, and she reached the bottom of the first page before the letters began to float about the parchment.

Hermione started the section over again, hoping to catch more the second part around, but was interrupted by a zigzag of multicolored light across her field of vision. She pushed her eyes shut firmly, as of attempting to streamline the rest they needed, and her metal point quil reached the soft inner flesh of her wrist without much conscious thought. A few beads of blood came to the surface as she dragged it across and returned to the start, scraping over the same line a second time. 

**_Stop that, right now!_ ** A deep voice commanded, echoing through her thoughts and she dropped the writing tool.  **_Go lie down._ **

Startled by the realization that she was now hearing voices, she picked the parchment back up, jotted down a short note, summoned her master’s elf to deliver the correspondence and returned to trying to get through the first part of the chapter. The letters floated away, morphing from the English alphabet to Greek characters and then into Egyptian hieroglyphics, rendering the information they held unattainable. Hermione had read the section multiple times already, but knowing that only increased her anxiety. Having a nearly perfect photographic memory meant that she did not often lose information, yet she could not even read the page when she closed her eyes and viewed it only in her mind. Those letters did the same dance and shape shift until they were birds, eyes and squiggles of all types.

“Hermione… you in there?” A reluctant male voice called out, knocking on the chamber doors barely hard enough to send a sound through to the other side. “I got your note while I was in the greenhouses. Professor Sprout sent me to wash up first. Are you alright?”

Unable to honestly answer yes, the witch crossed the room and opened the door, ushering him to enter. “Thank you for coming, Neville. I wasn’t sure who I could talk to about this.” His eyes moved over her body quickly, wide with alarm, before he sat down at the small dinette table where she gestured for him to go. Her first then surveyed the unfamiliar room and ended his evaluation at the horrifying beast Hermione had forgotten was mounted to her master’s ceiling. “You get used to it after a while.” 

“That’s good I guess.” He shrugged and turned to look at her with concern instead. “What’s going on? Why are you in Professor Snape’s quarters? You’ve missed all your classes this morning and Ginny is about to launch a search party.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. Please don’t let her do that.” Hermione grit her teeth, realizing she would be even less useful in the classroom than she was hidden away. Maybe that was why her master had so easily given in to pulling her from the school rosters. “Neville, I do not mean this lightly or at all intend to belittle your parents when I say that I think I’m losing my mind. I need your help figuring out what’s real and what isn’t.”

“Oh… okay.” Neville agreed gently, offering a hand of comfort that she chose not to take but he did not pull away or seem upset was ignored. He simply left it in place and continued on. “What's been going on to have you worried?”

She rushed into an explanation of being been tortured with the cruciatus and carved into by Bellatrix - skating around mentions that the blade was cursed out of fear that would be her one way ticket to becoming the Longbottom’s roommates at St Mungos - how letters seemed to curl off the page when she tried to read, the rainbow designs that still floated in front of her eyes, the single voice she had heard speak to her and the pounding pain that left her pressing into her sockets in a futile attempt to find relief.

All Neville did was listen, nodding along and encouraging her to rest when she was struck by a particularly harsh pain. No detail was scandalous enough to provoke him to gasp or spiral down the rabbit hole of diagnoses that included cruciatus madness, schizophrenia or the ever rare late-adolescent-onset dementia. He just let her finish, then pursed his lips when the room went silent. “Is that all?”

“Yes.” She nodded, wincing at the movement in her head. “I’m a goner, aren’t I? They’ll have to lock me up.”

“No… I don’t think so.” Neville smirked and if Hermione had not known he was too polite for it, she would have thought he was chuckling at her expense. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, I’ve just got to ask. Have you ever had a migraine?”

“A what?” She protested, wishing the sound of her own voice wasn’t piercing through her ear drums louder than a train whistle. “How could you think this is just a headache?” She did not need to have had a migraine before to know it could not possibly be this horrible.

“Because you are wincing at every light and sound, what you are describing sound like migraine auras and you seem to have forgotten that we can all think in whatever tones of voice we can imagine. The possibilities are endless.” The young wizard tried to sound amazed, and forced a smile. “I’m sure you just need a headache relief potion and a nap. Do you want me to walk you back to your rooms? Then I can run to the hospital wing and get you a potion or two.”

Hermione opened her mouth, hoping the words would come out reassuringly and not at all alarm the boy, but she heard the deep irritated voice once more before she had the chance.

“That will not be necessary, Mister Longbottom.” Professor Snape spoke through his teeth. “I will make sure Miss Granger receives the care she requires. She will see you at mealtime when she feels well enough to attend. Leave my chambers and speak of this to no one.”

Neville scrambled to his feet and left before Hermione could muster an expression of gratitude, apology or a farewell, and she was only fractionally aware of the hand that pressed into her forehead, then the vial that tipped into her wedged open mouth less than a minute later. She swallowed the sickly sweet liquid, unable to discern what exactly she had been fed, and would have believed she was being levitated if not for the tension of the strong arms under her knees and shoulders as she was carried to the bed. Once the sheets were tucked around her, she fought to focus on the shadow of her master that moved peculiarly in her peripheral vision, but was soon defeated by her heavy eyelids and aversion to even the low candlelight of the dungeons. A shifting on her bedside and arms that snaked around her waist told her that the potions professor had chosen to lie down with her, and he coiled himself around her for maximum contact, which she willingly submitted to.

“You are freezing, little witch.” Severus gasped and pulled her tighter to his torso, shivering a bit against her body and nearly burning her where their skin made contact. “I need to get your body raised to the proper temperature or the migraine relief potion cannot work.”

“Neville… he was… right?” Hermione asked.

Snape nodded into the crook of her neck, breathing heavily against her skin to try to spread the warmth as far as possible. “Do not be so surprised, my pet. Even a shoddy broom flies straight with the right stray wind. What amazes me is that you kept trying to read the damn book to let yourself get to this point. Do you have no sense of self preservation? Will I have to beat it into you, for Merlin’s sake! Either that or spend my entire life coming to your aid. I will hardly get anything done.”

She found her body pressing back into his, looking for heat as she realized just how chilled to the bone she had become. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I just wanted to be good for something.” The last word came out as a sob and was followed by a fresh bought of tears. Had she ever cried this much in her life? Would she just reduce herself to shriveled raisin of a witch if she couldn’t find the will to stop?

“Miss Granger, this is only temporary.” Severus Snape used the unbuttoned cuff of his white linen shirt to wipe the moisture from her face. He added a moisturizing potion to the brewing schedule that sat on the back wall of his mind. “This Sunday will be your marking and then I can promise you a measure of relief. Are you feeling any better?”

Hermione nodded, happy to be warm and feel the throbbing lessening behind her eyes. “Yes. 

“Then you need to rest.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head and buried his hooked nose in her curls. “I shall be here when you wake.” 


	10. Potion Master Needed

Ceremonial feast days in the Shacklebolt household were much like all the others, in that they were overly crowded, cluttered and full of gentle laughter. The eldest Shacklebolt daughters, Aurora and Phila, played with the former’s wand and practiced charms from her second year text books at the dinner table. Both looked much like their father, borrowing only the soft demeanor of their mother, and wore their hair in long braids that were rolled into buns and pinned in place at the top of their heads. Lysis watched them giggle with warmth in her heart. Soon the beloved sisters would be going to Hogwarts together and their heartbreaking separation would come to an end.

A freckled toddler pulled pots and pans from a lower kitchen cabinet at her ankles, banging on them with wooden spoons. She, on the other hand, looked nearly exactly like Genesis. Albinism had been passed down, giving the child the same piercing eyes and straw blond curls that were too fine and short to do much with besides let sit as a mop on top of her head. Violet, the only daughter that was of her blood, was out in the garden helping pick herbs for potion making. She was much like Lysis in that she was determined and capable, requiring a more hands off approach than the others that lived under the same roof. The newly pregnant witch stirred the stew, pleased with the aromas that filled their small cottage kitchen, and was at peace.

“Genesis! Light help me if you do not- No, no, no! Put that down! Get over here-” Kingsley shouted furiously in their bedroom, and Lysis flinched, casting a silencing charm on the shared wall. The young ears in the room did not need to hear the way their father spoke to their mother. 

* * *

The minister of magic paced back and forth at the foot of their bed, having bound Genesis’s wrists to the headboard, and tried to think through her protests. “Silence.” He grumbled and rubbed his temples to alleviate the growing tension. There was very little he hated more than the pitiful look on his true love’s face when she was restrained by his spells, but the muscles in his hands had begun to cramp and lose the battle. Kingsley wanted to stomp like an angry child and demand the light reshape his world into one he could manage. It was not as if he enjoyed having to subdue Genesis. The whole damned process broke what was left in tact of his nearly shattered heart.

He climbed onto the bed, leaned over the legs she had pulled up to her chest, and caressed her tear stained cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Do you realize how much I hate doing this?”

Staring nowhere - emptiness where her pale blue eyes had once locked onto his - she nodded and chewed her bottom lip, which he pried from between her teeth with his thumb. He would stand for no more destruction.

“And that I will continue to love you more and more, every day for the rest of eternity?” Kingsley leaned into his wife’s face and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Tell me that you understand that. That no witch could ever hold my affection more than you, my beautiful bride.”

Once more, Genesis nodded.

A pained look she did not see crossed her husband’s face and he forced a smile, his skin still connected with her own. He pulled his wand from his robe pocket and began running the tip of it over her face, chest and arms where she had been clawing at her flesh during her most recent fit. Time had taught him how to make the process go rather quickly and that it was best to keep it silent to reduce her stress. The gouges near her eyes - which were already scarred with a cloudy haze from the numerous times Kingsley had not subdued her fast enough, faded to silvery dashes that accompanied the hundreds of others across her cheeks and the tens of thousands all over her body. “Can I let you go now? Are you going to be safe?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, my lord.” Silent tremors tore through her body, but there were no more tears to shed. He cradled her body as close to his as the raw skin would allow, shushing pointlessly at her stubborn despair. “Kill me. Please, give me to the light. I beg of you for mercy.”

His teeth groaned in protest under the pressure of his clenching jaw. “I have none to give, Genesis.” Kingsley moved his lips down her face to her neck, tasting her raw skin along the way and murmuring soothing words into the flesh. The frantic pulse he felt through his lips settled a bit from its racing and Lord Shacklebolt knew that he was using the proper force against her inner demons. “Let me love you, my darling. If that is all I can do, do not deny me.”

* * *

Severus set up shop in their kitchen, his brewing starting nearly on its own own while he watched Lysis work. She was exquisite, without a doubt, in her young vibrancy. Yet she had nearly a decade on his own wife-to-be, showing a level of maturity that warranted the trust he felt in her. Miss Granger was many things - intelligent, powerful, and thoroughly entrapping - but not trustworthy. He had not lived as long as he had by foolishly giving wizards and witches the benefit of the doubt. Womanly charms worked about as well to loosen the hold on his inhibitions as they did to make the grass grow.

“Lord Snape,” Violet tugged at the cuff of his coat. “Are you going to fix Mother Genesis? My mummy said she’s broken again and that’s why she makes that noise. It hurts my ears.”

The wizard glared at the witch from across the room, shouting his disapproval with only the narrowing of his eyes. “No, young Miss Shacklebolt. Genesis is not broken. She is simply not feeling well. You are to fetch the icepick and chip off a glass full to help her feel better. It will be required after she takes the potion. Run along, now.” Snape insisted and the cheery chit scampered out of the room and down a hall, to Merlin know where. At least she was no longer hovering underfoot, threatening to trip him if he took any turn she could not anticipate. He turned his attention to her mother. “If you wish for her to be a potions mistress one day, do not fill her head with such lies. Many are also healers and require some semblance of compassion for their patients. The only other option is teaching at Hogwarts and - unless she plans on being my assistant - my tenure will stop her from gaining employment there for the next century at least. It is foolish you have me teaching a child at all. If I were not a gracious wizard I would have half a mind to-”

Lysis stopped his words by dipping her finger tips in flour and flicking it at his black coat, laughing loudly even when his frown lines deepened. “Why so serious,  _ Lord Snape _ ? That little lioness has got your garments knotted into next week. I thought you’d be bloody thrilled to finally be of some use to the light with the way you talk.”

“Language!” Severus snapped, and only received a snide smile as a response. “If you must know, I am quite pleased with my acquisition. What I am not pleased with is that Kingsley chose to perform a ceremony with you when Genesis clearly was deteriorating. A lord has a responsibility to care for his witches. If he cannot maintain his responsibilities at home and at the ministry then he should step down to a position that is compatible with family life.”

She stirred the pot, tasting it intermittently as if they were discussing the weather. “Do not blame my lord, dear friend. As far as we could tell, she was fine yesterday. Excited, really. This was a fast turn and I do wonder if she is sleeping well these days. Lord Shacklebolt takes dreamless sleep nearly every night since the war, which would prevent her from waking him as well.”

“Do you?” He asked, more gently than he had spoken to her before. She could have turned his words against him, mentioning his own daughter that had been pushed aside for the  _ greater good  _ of spying for the Dark Lord, but the witch had not done so. Snape could respect her for that.

Lysis stopped, looking at him passively from only the corner of her eye while she fussed over a loaf of bread she was putting into the oven. “Do I what?”

He regarded her like an assessor, if there was some type of gain to be had in assessing the restlessness of witches. “Do you ever take dreamless sleep? As a professional in the field of potions - and a lord of our faith who is versed in it’s scripturally compliant uses - I do believe you would find it beneficial. If for no other reason than to make your position in the household slightly more more comfortable.”

“Oh piss off, Severus.” Lysis seethed, then glanced around to assure that none of the children had noticed her outburst. “I am just as comfortable in my marriage as any other witch that crosses the threshold of the temple. Do not infantilize me, behaving as if I am some kind of victim that is too daft to realize it. Just. Stop. It.”

Professor Snape set his jaw, in a fast failing attempt to hold back his seething remarks to the woman who he had held down while she was marked nearly a decade before. “Tell me, how does it feel to be married to a wizard that does not love you, Lysis? Does it eat at you to know that you are simply a vessel for his dreams? Just a womb and a set of hands so he can realize his own dreams.”

“Shut it.” She grumbled, much less agitated than she had been the first several times Severus had said such things to her. The routine was growing old. “Kingsley loves me.”

He rolled his eyes, putting the final dash of shredded birch bark over top to sink into the mixture. “And yet he will always have  _ chosen _ her and been  _ offered  _ you. Do not pretend that means nothing.”

They worked in agitated, but otherwise quite comfortable, silence until the strips of bark sank to the bottom of his potion and she had pulled a fresh loaf of bread from the oven. He moved to cool the mixture, ladling it into a warmed vessel so the difference in temperature would not shatter the glass. It was not the color he preferred, but would be sufficient to bring the girl back from the edge until she was lucid enough to see sense. The potions master knew he would be back in the same kitchen making the same brew in a month.

Severus moved the glass of warm potion and the twin container of ice chips onto a tray that he charmed to hover into the room. He was not an idiot and knew full well what was going on behind that door. Outside of the temple, Snape would not tolerate watching the love making of his friends. He had seen far more of Kingsley Shacklebolt than he ever desired to and - while his methods for calming Genesis were effective - they did not require an unwilling witness.

“Wait.” Lysis squeaked, her cheeks flushed and tears in her eyes that the fierce woman would never let fall. 

He stopped where he was, unsure what the witch anticipated him doing that she wished he would cease, and then he recognized her expression. Pain. Complete agony. “Fear not, Mrs Shacklebolt. I do not intend to go anywhere.”

The corners of her trembling lips pulled up into the ghost of a smile and she rocked herself a bit under the guise of an affirmative nod. “I just… shit. Please tell me… I was  _ offered  _ to you as well. Why didn’t you  _ choose  _ me? Am I really that intolerable to be around? Who the hell decided that of all the damned lords in all of the world that Kingsley would be the best match for me?”

“No,” Her words prodded at the lump of muscle in his chest as if to coax it to ache, only resulting in a tightness around his Adam's apple. “You are a dutiful wife, Lysis. An admirable trait in a woman of the light. I just wanted more.”

“More? As in what?” She asked and he raised an eyebrow, resulting in an offended scoff. “I just want to know if I  _ could  _ do it. If you have not heard me every time I’ve told you before, Lord Snape, I am content in my position. Just tell me what you this Granger girl has that I was lacking.”

Severus shook his head, and fought the urge to pull Lysis into an embrace. Even when they bickered, the witch had always been good to him. As a lord of the light, who had agreed to live his life by a strict set of principles, he owed her the truth. “You were only fourteen years old, Lysis. I could not tell your father what he could or could not decide for you, but I refused to be part of taking away your choice. When I was shown your photographs and met you in the temple, all I could see was a child because that was what you were. And children should never be chips or trinkets for their parents to trade.” Of its own accord, his hand reached out and wrapped around her upper arm, rubbing gently while she avoided eye contact but leaned into the touch. “While the first wife is showered with attention, the role of the second wife is one of loneliness and pain. Only the strongest survive, and here you stand. I must inform you, dear witch, that this pain will not end until your life does, but the light will reward you. Your sacrifice will not be in vain.”


	11. A Change Of Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A filler chapter to get us where we need to go... but enjoy!

“Well well well, never thought I’d see you in a man’s bed, Granger. Perhaps the Lovegood girl in mine but never you.” A sly snickering voice disrupted her dreams and Hermione opened her eyes to see Draco Malfoy leaning against the chamber’s door frame. “No wonder you’ve made better grades than I have. You’ve been completing extra credit directly under the potions master himself.”

The witch pulled the bed linens around her body quickly, thankful when she realized she was still fully clothed for the day. “That’s not what this is, Malfoy. What are you doing here? Where is Severus?”

The head boy crossed the room and sat comfortably by her feet on the bed. “Severus, eh? Well he had to head over to the Shacklebolt house early to handle a potions emergency and asked me to escort you there to meet him. I have some business with the minister so it's no trouble.” Draco smirked and pulled away the fabric that was in Hermione’s grasp. “Time to go.”

She gaped and narrowed her eyes. “Why would I go anywhere with you?”

“Because,” He picked up the book from the lamp table between Severus’s armchairs. “I know exactly what my godfather will do to you if you don’t. And by the way you’re wincing, your arse can’t take any more of it. So put on your shoes, use the loo and let’s hit the road.”

She kept one narrowed eye on the head boy while she put on her shoes. “I’m ready to leave.”

Draco smirked. “Unless you’ve wet your knickers, you still need to go.”

“I don’t-“ she stopped her protest, hearing her own words. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” His sheer widened. “But my godfather does and he left me with specific instructions that I intend to follow to the letter. Run along.”

Hermione shot him a nasty look then made a fast dash for the adjoining bathroom. Her heart nearly jumped from her chest as she took shallow rushed breaths, trying to calm the shock that threatened to overtake her. _How could he just leave me like this?_ She demanded of a mind without answers. _With_ **_him_ ** _? Of all the vile and disgusting people to wake up to in place of my lover-_ her finger tips flew to her lips that hadn’t been moving, and she watched the horror spread across her twisted features in slow motion, her skin clinging tight over her more pronounced chin and cheek bones. There had been no lie in her statement, or chance for her to be misled. She was to be marked by Severus Snape in less than a week’s time, spent her nights - and much of her days - in his bed and strangest of all _liked_ it.

 _Be brave_ . She urged her reflection, while washing her hands after relieving herself.Hermione nodded slowly with an effort to reassure, failing to ignore the knot in her stomach that reminded her not only was she effectively marrying her potions professor, but one of her greatest adversaries was sitting in the next room and knew all about it. For all she knew, Snape would let Draco watch.

_He can’t hurt you. The professor would never allow it. The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll not be alone with Malfoy._

She left the bathroom, working hard to steady her voice. “I’m ready to go now.” She crossed her arms with defiance, maintaining the aura of dignity she fought so hard to establish for six long years of school.

Draco nodded, his smirk growing further into his cheeks until his face was distorted into a Cheshire grin. “Alright. I have got a port key, unless you would prefer to take the long way. Though I’d need to stop by my dorm for my broom.”

“No, Portkey is fine.” 

They arrived outside a small shack, small as a hunting cabin and makeshift as the burrow. Flowers were planted in window boxes with chipping paint and Hermione scolded herself when she caught her mind filled with judgments on how the minster of magic’s family should live. Who was she to judge? They would be living at a school in the dungeons.

They were welcomed inside by Lysis, and quickly rushed to sit down at a counter top table with a bowl of stew and slice of bread in front of each of them. “I apologize for the change of plans. There was a bit of a family emergency. Lord Shacklebolt and Genesis will be ready shortly but there is no sense in letting your food get cold.” She brushed her hands on her apron, which was draped over her quite formal attire of black trousers and a white collared shirt buttoned up to the base of her throat held tightly together with a narrow black necktie.

Children played quietly all around them, and Lysis brought a bowl to the living room for Hermione’s master, who had chosen not to say a word. In fact, the only trace of Severus in the large open space was his potions kit boxed up near the door and a tuft of his greasy black hair sticking up over a high backed chair, surrounded by rising smoke and the pungent stench of tobacco. 

“He smokes?” Hermione muttered to herself, and flushed when she realized both Lysis and Draco could hear her. “I didn’t know that.”

“Really? I figured he’d roll a fag after sex at the very least.” Draco punctuated by pulling a bite of meat and potato into his mouth, the snide remark resulting in only slightly upturned corners to his lips. “Perhaps you bore him. No need to calm down if he doesn’t find himself properly worked up.”

A spatula flew towards the young wizard, snapping against his cheek with an audible stinging _smack_ that went unnoticed by the rest of the house. “You be quiet! Excuse the filthy mouth on that one, Miss Granger. Draco here is like a stray dog. The training never takes but he keeps coming back and eating me out of house and home. Which I wouldn't mind if you bothered taking the light!” Lysis flicked him on the head with a light thud, the playful gesture surprisingly ignored by the young Mr Malfoy.

Hermione swallowed to prevent herself from choking. “What are you doing here, Draco?” If he was taking that treatment from anyone, he had to be desperate.

Lysis pulled the fabric over her head to hang the apron on the wall. “Why does any man do anything? Think that over and you’ve got your answer right there. Eat up, now. Kingsley must head into the ministry in an hour or two. The auror department has been owning since noon. It's a bloody mess over there."

“Language!” Severus barked, still not even saying hello to his pet, who pinkened accordingly in the cheeks. “And Miss Granger, if you would mind not thinking your questions so loudly. I have a migraine.”

She slurped the remaining broth from her spoon, softening her voice to a whisper. “Do you need a headache potion, Master?”

Snape huffed an amused laugh. “No my pet, only a short rest.”

It took nearly an hour for the occupants of the room to change. Their daughters all moved throughout the room as if on some kind of schedule, and Lysis scooped each plate, cup, bowl, glass and utensil out of the way before Hermione could so much as offer to help. It was as if she was not sitting in a family’s home, but inside an amusement park ride controlled behind the scenes by gears and levers all pulled according to a master clock. All it lacked was an exit sign and a catchy tune.

She moved to the couch, wanting to keep an eye on her professor’s pinched expression. _What did he do? Has he ever strained himself before without her noticing? What kind of magic does this?_ She could not recall an instance or a book reference of migraines from potion making in all her years spent at the castle library. Not even in the restricted section.

“Severus, my friend,” The Minister greeted when he entered the room, long deep green temple robes dragging across the wood floors behind him. He evaluated Hermione with a soft kind smile and called out to her master, who had been engaged in a hushed conversation with his godson that had resulted in more than one chest concaving sigh. “Your pet here looks quite overwhelmed. Her poor nerves are shot.”

“Is that true, Miss Granger?” Snake pinched his eyes shut when they snapped open nearly of their own accord to see her, the pain obvious in his shaking voice.

Though in no other company could she admit that weakness, she nodded. “Very much so.”

Kingsley rested back in his chair, and Genesis - the stark white woman she had seen in several family pictures - perched herself on the arm. He reached one hand behind her back, rubbing up and down at a slow soothing pace, and just as absently reached an open palm towards where Lysis sat besides Hermione, just out of his reach. An invitation that he knew would - but hoped it would not - be ignored. The young witch had never seen such calm and longing existing peacefully together as she did in the man across from her. Hermione was unsure if she could even comprehend a man maintaining such dignity in the face of such agonizing unrequited love. His heart was more broken than her mind.

“You have questions, do you not? Ask them now. My family and I are open books for you. There will be no shyness here.” The rush in his voice did not go unnoticed by her, and she found herself flustered to compile a true list of all the things she had wondered since agreeing to be marked. _Damn Severus! I shouldn't have fallen asleep._

 ** _Be Quiet!_ **Her master groaned and covered his eyes as if his lids suddenly did not block out enough light.

Hermione chewed on her lower lip intently and studied the group of people. Even the children - who were playing wizard chess and drawing with crayons on a large roll of butcher paper - seemed content. She evaluated Lysis, and despite the sadness in her eyes, the woman did seem at peace. When this was all over, Hermione theorized she would have some sadness of her own to live with. Professor Lupin, Tonks and Fred had all still lost their lives on the battlefield, along with dozens of other brave witches and wizards. To think that she would be spared a bit of the blues because of a barbaric marriage ceremony was absolutely entitled and pathetic. Nothing could bring them back. 

“You’re wrong, you know.” Kingsley smiled warmly. “There are many things that we can do that others cannot, simply because we are trained in redemptive magic. With the help and approval of the light we could bring Remus and Nymphadora back. All we would need to do is dedicate their son to the light - with his guardian’s permission and support of course - then wait until he was old enough to perform the ceremony but not too old as to not need his parents. Early teens, wouldn’t you say Severus?”

Hermione whipped her neck around at her master and gave him a piercing glare that said much more than words or legilimency could ever communicate. She was livid. He had known how to bring Lily and James back and had still let Harry grow up without parents. _Of all the low, rotten, unforgivable-_

Professor Snape stiffened, sitting up straighter in the patchwork cushioned chair and made a point to ignore her, his hooked nose elevated slightly into the air with feigned superiority and eyes still shut “Yes, Lord Shacklebolt. Thirteen tends to be an appropriate age, should the boy be willing.” **_I will speak to you later. Pay attention!_ **

“Mister Weasley would be a bit more complicated. Perhaps his twin would be capable of performing such a ceremony, should he truly require his brother for survival…” The minister trailed off dreamily, seemingly delighted by the possibility of what their magic could accomplish. “I swear to it that I will look into the matter. Or, you can do so yourself once you are marked. Acceptance of the light will give you access to more literature than all the rest of the Wizarding world combined. You shall accomplish tenfold more in the next hundred years than you would have in the entirety of your existence otherwise. The kind of knowledge the light can give you is beyond the very capability of your imagination to fabricate a fantasy of. You are now the brightest witch of your generation, but with the help of redemptive magic and it’s many blessings, you would be the brightest witch the world has ever known.”

“You exaggerate, Lord Shacklebolt.” Severus interjected, his voice betraying the friendliness he typically kept with Kingsley. He would not stand for anyone filling his pet’s cluttered mind with useless lies. “While the volumes do not surpass in number, libraries within the Light of Redemption temples around the world are all connected by a closed floo network and are far superior to what the rest of the world has at their disposal. Witches and wizards seek the light each for their own reason, and that reason is not always cleansing the soul. You have a long way to go before you are even back to your previous state, Miss Granger. Do not let the possibility of _books_ make your choice. That would be the most dunderheaded way to reach the proper conclusion that I can fathom. Do this because if you do not, I cannot guarantee your survival. It would be a pity to waste your education or the sacrifice many made for you to leave the war with your life.”

But it was not about the books, and she just knew her master understood that. It was the knowledge. Even if she was not destined to find a cure for lycanthropy or harness the uncontrollable yet brief power of maidenhead’s blood, she could accomplish enough to make the remaining doubt for muggle borns be shed from society. Especially if she had all that extra time. Centuries to learn... “I won’t, and I can’t, because I have already decided. I want to do this and get it over with. More than anything, I want my mind back. And I want-” she stopped, waiting for a smirk from Draco to embarrass her, but it did not come. “-I want you, Master.”

Snape stiffened slightly, then gave her a curt nod. “Very well, my pet. I will owl the temple our formal declaration of betrothal.”

A large warm hand encompasses both of hers, belonging to the kind man who still sat across from her. “And I will witness the declaration for you, Hermione. Do you need help with the marking preparations? My wives would both be delighted to help. Isn’t that right, girls?”

“Of course, sir.” Genesis nearly whispered and bowed her head into the crook of his neck, as if hiding from a shameful secret she had told the room. Lysis just nodded, a small grin on her typically stern face, that Hermione did not fail to notice Kingsley discretely admiring. _Will I ever be loved like that?_ His pale wife mumbled into his skin and Lord Shacklebolt nodded along, his free hand finding the small of her back and rubbing circles one again. Perhaps it was a nervous habit, his need to touch her at all times. Or perhaps he was making up for the touch he had settled on being denied.

“Ahh, yes. I can do that.” He nodded in answer to her private question. “Hermione, my Genesis is asking if you’d like her to sew your ceremonial robe for your before and after your marking. She says she could take measurements today and may have some blessed cloth in her wardrobe, just to start with. You’ll have some time to fill, I’m afraid. It is my understanding that Lord Snape and I have things to discuss privately with Mr Malfoy. My office, gentlemen?”

Severus nodded, only waving a small dismissal towards her questioning look, and Draco just bowed his head in what she found to be perplexing submission. Had she ever known Draco Malfoy to behave subserviently to anyone? _What the hell is going on?_

**_Later._**

***

Severus would have pulled out nearly all of his godson's permanent teeth with a muggle tool kit to get to the bottom of why Draco had accepted the invitation to stay past his duty of escorting Miss Granger to the secret kept cottage, and removed all his own the same way to break the boy of his nervous leg bouncing habit. Or at the very least relieve himself the pounding he felt behind his eyes.

Draco stood uncomfortably in the oversized pantry turned severely undersized study, ducking his head so he would not crack his skull on the low hanging bookshelves that lined the walls. Kingsley took his own desk chair and Snape grabbed his godson by the shoulders and put him in the spare dining room chair reserved for guests. For this conversation, he would much rather stand over the boy.

“What is the meaning of this, Draco?” Severus nearly hissed, his nostrils flaring. “Have I not given you every opportunity to join the light? That is my bloody job, ensuring your salvation, and you have the audacity to seek the light from Lord Shacklebolt. Do you have any respect for what this faith teaches? Any care whatsoever for how things have been done for tens of thousands of years? Answer me you daft boy!”

Kingsley leaned forward, exasperation painted all over his face, and ignored his brother-in-faith’s protest. “Why did you seek my favor, Draco?”

The shallow skinned man grit his teeth. “What use do you have for the light that you did not before? Did you find it could offer you something more valuable than preventing you from enduring an _eternity of oblivion_? Money? Fame? Power? What addictive sensation would it take to make you of all beings do the right thing?”

Each word was the thrust of a dagger to the youngest Malfoy, who pulled harshly at the roots of his blond hair. If he could not quit the nasty habit, he would be bald by twenty. “Astoria is dying.”

The minister frowned, muttering a condolence that did not register with Severus. He had been aware of that fact for years, given that the girl was in his fifth year potion class and frequently had to be excused to visit the hospital wing for the sudden onset of one malady or another. “This is not new information, Draco. Miss Greengrass has a blood curse that is passed down through every several generations. The girl has been destined to be a beautiful corpse since she was born, what does this have to do with you?” His question came to a point, the accusation exactly as harsh as he intended.

“Do you love this girl, Mister Malfoy?” Kingsley tried to smile at him with support.

Draco nodded slowly, then shook his head. “Yes, I do, but that’s not why I’m here. I mean, it _is_ but there has been a… complication.” His voice broke and Severus narrowed his eyes, only slightly motivated by dimming the lights in the room to a tolerable level.

“You cannot mean what it sounds like you mean.” The Professor glowered at his godson, who did not move to deny it and reddened in the face. “Bloody hell! You irresponsible, selfish, hormone driven dunderhead. Do you understand the seriousness of what you have done? You have taken the decades that girl had to live and turned them into weeks, months if she manages to be one of the rare lucky ones. This is proof of what I told your father the moment you came screeching out of your mother’s mangled birth canal. You are destined for a lifetime of horribly destructive decisions in the name of your own overinflated ego! Get out! Get out of my sight.”

“Severus!” Kingsley scolded, adjusting the green velvet hat that rested on top of his head. “What are you going on about?”

Lord Snape turned to his oldest living friend - the one who had asked him to witness declarations for and handtame both his wives - and seethed. “The. Idiot. Killed. Her. He could not keep his prick in his trousers and got Astoria Greengrass pregnant, and now he wants us to bring him into the light so he can save the chit. Of all the-“ His rant was cut off by the calmer man.

“Okay.” Lord Shacklebolt nodded solemnly. “I will teach you of the light, assist you in marking the girl and in exchange you will agree to take on one of my middle daughters, Phila or Violet, when she is of age and is ready for marking. Astoria shall live a long life and you will raise the child in the temple. Is this agreeable to you?”

Surprise and relief crossed the terrified young wizard's face. “Yes, of course. Thank you, minister. I will not fail you.”

“I will not stand for this.” Lord Snape said. “You cannot just give the boy this privilege to save his skin. Think of your honor, Kingsley.” 

“What do you suggest I do, Severus?” He reclined in his chair, arms crossed and a stubborn furrowed brow. “Allow Astoria Greengrass to die? The light commands us never to foolishly throw away the life it grants us. Do I find a lord to mark her while she carries another wizard's child? That still leaves the issue of Draco’s conversion. Wizards seek the light at their lowest points. At least now when he finds himself gutter bound in one way or another, he’ll have somewhere to turn. A wizard cannot enter adulthood depending on others to come to his rescue. He is the rescuer now."

Severus pursed his lips, glaring at his friend, the boy and then repeating the process again. He landed on his godson, visibly shaken by the powerful wizards debating his future in a dark cupboard no bigger than a broom closet. _Am I truly going to stoop to this level?_ He groaned, knowing the answer was yes. It would compromised nearly all of his beliefs, but some things could not be avoided in times of crisis. “I will do it.”

“What?”

He huffed. “I said I will help you save the chit and I shall not say it again. It is my right. And you have my blessing to take on Ivy when the time comes should _she_ wish it. Not you, her. And make no mistake, she will destroy you if you ever lay so much as a finger tip on her without her unwavering agreement. Ivy may take you down even without provocation." Severus muttered the last sentence, and Kingsley bowed his head in agreement. "There! Are you both happy now? Draco, you are getting to save Miss Greengrass, raise the bastard you have shoved into her womb and recieveing a half blooded Veela as a wedding present. If I were you I would be ready to do my bidding for the rest of your now likely three hundred year life, and I will not spare you even the most menial tasks. If my wife needs a glass of water from the kitchen at three in the morning I will have no qualms with calling upon you to Apparate there from the other side of the world and bring it to her just so I do not have to stop fucking her to get it myself. Do I make myself abundantly clear?”

Draco bowed his head of blond hair, whispering desperate thanks and declarations of his own lack of worth. _Clearly._ Lord Shacklebolt only smiled, pleased with himself having backed Severus into the corner that was doing the right thing. _Pompous arse._ Snape thought, then remembered his little witch sitting in the room next door, likely irritated at the poking and prodding of the duel Mrs Shacklebolt team. Together, they could be intolerable. “If you would excuse me, gentlemen, I must get Miss Granger back to our quarters so she may rest. Giving her time to make an informed decision means I have had to employ _alternate means_ of slowing her decline.” His words were loaded, but would mean nothing to the younger wizard. 

“You’re performing spells on her while she _sleeps_? You took her headache, didn't you?” Kingsley shook his head. _So much for discretion._ “And I’m sure the girl just thinks she’s getting a nap in? The violation of autonomy alone is inexcusable, not considering the ethical implications of lying to her and the added danger of her own magic going on the defense and harming you both. How could you take that kind of risk?”

Snape swallowed hard, regretting that the circumstances brought him and the closest he had to a friend to such a point of contention. And beyond that, he regretted his reason for being so foolish. Yet he found that even when he made his best attempts, the wizard could not lie and say it was the wrong thing to do. No, he would have lived this agonizing lifetime a hundred times over just to make the same decision when faced with the bushy haired know-it-all struggling to control her failing mind in his potions classroom. “I understand and accept the possibility of failure.” _Miss Granger is worth the price I must pay_.

**_Why?_ **

_She helps me forget who I am._


	12. His Witch

His hand held a nearly bone crushing grip on her wrist as she dragged her by her wrist from the moment the Shacklebolts closed their cottage door to the apparition point in front of Hogwarts, at which point she could sense his irritation reach a peak only moments before he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?!” Hermione gasped, the wind knocked out of her.

Severus smacked her bum harder than usual only once. “I am assuring that you are not a hindrance to my plans. We must go to the hospital wing, immediately.”

“Why?”

He took the stairs quickly and she imagined his legs must ache from her extra weight. “You should be examined by a healer.”

“For what reason?”

“You had no fewer than four Legilimens digging through your mind every moment you were in that cottage. How could you not have noticed? They were practically having a dinner party in your skull!” The professor reached the corridor approaching the hospital wing and shifted her into a position much easier to fling into a bed. 

Hermione nearly growled at the way his shoulder was digging into her hip bone and resisted the urge to pound her fists on his back and demand to be let down. That would not sit well with the stirn wizard. “Why would they be digging through my head?”

“Habit, most likely.” Snape opened the door with wandless magic and yanked her over his body into a bed, quickly pulling at her robes to better cover her damaged skin. Madam Pomfrey would nag them both to the end of the earth if she saw the scars. “Kingsley and Lysis likely wished to make sure they didn’t rattle you and were keeping feelers out for your mood. It’s Genesis I don’t bloody trust. The wench has always had a careless technique and there is no telling what she left behind to be found later. I damn near made my head explode trying to occlude her on your behalf - and I already had a migraine that could bring a thestral to its knees. Poppy must scan you for any traces of damage behind.”

“I thought proficiency In Legilimency was rare. Why would you all be able to perform it?”

“It is a light art, Miss Granger. That is why the dark lord was always so terrible at sensing my lies. When he slipped inside my head, he had no chance. You practically held the door open for all of us! If I knew you were that vulnerable to unknown and unwilling attacks then I would have told them to refrain. Lord Shacklebolt could have sedated her further with proper warning.”

“What do you think would happen to me?”

“Seizures? Insanity? A newfound love of coriander? There is no telling what she felt was fit to leave behind.”

“I don’t understand what would she leave in my mind? And why? She acted lovely today. Does she hate muggle borns?”

He scoffed, and again slapped her on the behind. “Genesis is a disturbed woman. The Bellatrix or the light, if you would.” Severus smirked to himself then returned to his standard stoic state. “She is dedicated to the cause to the most intense degree but has been mad as long as I’ve known her, only rivaled by- it doesn't matter. Kingsley rescued Genesis at a black market potions market by purchasing her from a traveling salesman. Her father had sold her as a child because her hair alone is worth more than gold by volume, not to mention the blood… anything she would have done to you would not be intentional.”

“What are you even talking about? How would that have anything to do with my brain?”

“Miss Granger, it is as if you hosted a crowded party in your mind and one of your guests suffers from chronic vertigo. The combining factors mean anything from your entire set of fine China being shattered to a few unharmed pieces knocked off a shelf. That is why you need a mediwitch to see what damage she has done. It could be nothing and it could be absolutely everything. I cannot stress how important it is for you to be cautious until you are fully recovered. None of this is a game, it is the most serious and important thing you have ever done.”

“Including helping kill Voledmort?”

Severus winced at the name, but continued his fretting over her by pulling her cheek to rest on his middle and stroking her hair. “Yes, Miss Granger, even that. Poppy! We have a problem.” He called out towards the office, prompting the round woman to scurry out towards them.

“What’s the matter with her, Severus?” Madam Pomfrey wedged between them, making it necessary for her master to release her and stand back, watching idly. “She looks just fine to me.”

“Well she is not  _ fine _ . She had three Shacklebolts, as well as myself, rummaging around in her thoughts. I know how fragile she has been but they did not begin to understand. Make sure they did not do her any harm! ” Snape ordered and the mediwitch waved him off.

She pulled her wand from her apron and held Hermione’s chin firmly, flashing light in her eyes and making a sound with the tip of her tongue against her teeth, then murmured a few incantations while feeling the sides of her face. “I can’t see that they did much damage, Professor. Nothing a hardy meal and a good night’s rest wouldn’t fix right up. You worry far too much and will give yourself a coronary if you don’t mind yourself. Surely you don’t see yourselves as that powerful as to shatter her.”

The wizard stiffened, holding back the acid he wished to spew at his collegue. Snape let out a sigh of relief when the mediwitch released his pet, and his hands back where he knew they belonged, on her soft skin. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, unable to move the color of blush from her face, and leaned down to place a chased kiss on her forehead. Hermione’s rapid breaths were hot on his throat and he reached under her slight form to lift her back into his arms, much to the protest of Madam Pomfrey. “Oh I hear you, you ridiculous woman. I am taking her back to my quarters and she will spend the evening there. Tell the headmistress that I will check in with her later this evening.” He had to take her back to the dungeons. It would be up to  _ him,  _ not a ridiculous old woman, to decide how  _ his  _ witch would be cared for.  _ The girl is mine. _

* * *

“I hate this.” Hermione pushed away her transfiguration textbook that she had been testing, the words curling around and off the page before she could read each line. “It’s dreadful. What is the point of any of this? Why would I want to live if this is what I must live with? I cannot remember another period of my life when I could not read for myself.”

Severus gave the witch a pointed look, then rolled his eyes at her flair for dramatics. “I am aware that you are frustrated, Miss Granger, but it is only a few more days and then you can read every book in the Hogwarts library just as you did before.”

“Why is this happening?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to stave off his own returning headache. “Parasitic dark magic can tell what would distress its victim the most and uses that to torture them. For you, it is the symptoms of dyslexia. For me, it would be hand tremors.”

Hermione raised a brow at the man. “But you love books.” It was true. His volumes were everywhere, stacked on tables and up to the ceiling on his shelves.

“I cannot very well brew potions if I have no control over my hands. Chopping and measuring ingredients would be impossible. My years of education and research would be for nothing.” Severus reached across the space between their chairs, and she handed over her transfiguration book with a huff. “ Someone else could read for me - you could read for me - but expecting you to brew for me would be like asking a nurse to perform surgery. It simply is not possible. Unless it is a particularly difficult brew, I no longer need to refer to the recipes or walk myself through the steps. It is all muscle memory now. Which is why those muscles malfunctioning would be my own personal hell.”

The teenage witch paused, considering his position, before landing on the last words he said. “So that’s what the dark magic is trying to bring me to? My own ‘personal hell’? Is that what the blade was meant for?”

“For lack of a better term, yes.” The professor set the book down on an end table that was far enough out of her reach that she could not sneak peaks when he looked away. “Magic like this, so dark and destructive, is far too difficult to control for it to be properly studied. It will not conform to any of the necessary controls for experimentation to occur, so it must be watched and recorded from a distance. What observers are left with is data that was influenced by any number or variables. Consider it more of an across the board average than a large sample With established trends. Bella did not often let her victims live long enough to experience the full effects. Those that were left behind tended to end their own lives before this stage.”

Hermione crossed her arms and blew a strand of hair out of her face, wearing her bottom lip jutted into a pout. “Lucky me.” She rolled her doe eyes and straightened her spine the moment after, having realized what she had done. “Are you going to punish me now?”

Severus smirked. “Whatever for?”

_ Is this a test?  _ She asked herself, studying the man’s black eyes as if looking for a pinhole to peep through into the depths of his mind. “Being disrespectful.”

He shook his head, and watched the witch relax. “No, Miss Granger. As long as you are conscious of this behavior, it seems the lesson has already started to take hold. Maybe next time, should I be fortunate enough for you to forget.” With that he rose from his chair and crossed the room to his large bookshelf. He tapped his wand to a glamored volume near the top and pulled it down, then plopped it in her lap.

Hermione scowled for only a moment, and then forced a sheepish smile of apology. “What am I to do with this if I can’t read?”

“Open it.” Severus poured himself a firewhiskey and sat down in front of the fire. There was no movement in his peripheral vision, causing him to stifle his snort like laughter. “It is all pictures, Miss Granger.”

A crease formed between her eyebrows and she put her index finger under the lip of the hard cover, toying with the idea of opening it. “Of?”

“Oh, nothing important.” He sneered, choosing a potions journal from his pile of magazines and flipping to a random page that he did not intend to read. “Just illustrations of what to expect for your marking and consummation ceremonies. Go in blind if you would like. My performance will be unchanged either way.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks and she cringed after her naivety before she chose to flip to the first page. The pictures were in color, mostly black lines and shades of peach and white with a few accents of red where they would be expected. The ceremony and dinner itself was as her master had described it, but when it came time to view illustrations of the marking  _ night _ , Hermione did not know what to expect. It was not as if she was completely unaware, but her experience sexually was limited to a biological understanding of reproduction and walking in on Harry with his trousers around his ankles while Ginny knelt on the floor in front of him. She had, for obvious reasons, covered her eyes and backed away from the scene apologizing and that meant that the only images she had seen up to that point of the male anatomy had been exactly that, strictly anatomical.

Now, she saw the more tender side of love making. Hermione was grateful that the images did not move like those in most Wizarding books, as the passion between the very generic English wizard and witch was already quite palpable without any more than  _ implied _ movement. He had put her in the middle of the bed on her back, untied her white robes and released them, moved between her legs and tore through her maidenhead with one aggressive thrust. Blood saturated the sheets beneath them, a brighter and more flat red than the pools she had waded through after the battle of Hogwarts. Remembering how surprisingly thick it was - how it coagulated between the treads of her trainers and fell out in gelatinous strands - brought bile to the back of her throat and she found she could not swallow it back as she preferred to. If Hermione Granger hated anything more than admitting she was wrong, it was vomiting.

Throwing the book to the floor she dashed for the lavatory, only making it to the sink basin before she spewed up her potions and the light dinner of cheese and crackers that Severus had insisted she eat when she woke from her most recent sleeping draught induced slumber. A gentle callused hand gathered her hair into a bun and wiped a cool rag over her forehead.

“Shhh, my pet. Never fear.” Severus whispered into her ear while she dry heaved. “It will only last a moment. Just breathe through it.”

If Hermione had not known that her master could read her mind, she would have thought he was coaching her for their Sunday night activities. Maybe she even wished he was going to give her instructions to follow. A witch who could use his rants to figure out the intricacies of polyjuice potion in her second year could become an excellent lover if her master would make it clear what he desired.

Seated on the closed toilet, Severus crouched down in front of her continuing to clean her face with the cloth and run diagnostic spells, Hermione found the request coming out before she had given it much consideration. “Will you teach me what you want in bed  _ before  _ we get there, Master? I’d like to be prepared to do well.” 

His answer was short, and did not require the verbal repetition that he gave, as it was written upon his face. “No.” Then he

reached over to the vanity, opened the middle drawer on the left hand side and pulled out another migraine relief potion and a nutritional elixir. “Take these. Quickly now.”

Hermione accepted them with trembling hands, and tossed both back together. “Won’t I just throw it all up again?” She moved to wipe the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand, but his damp cloth arrived first.

“No. This is a faster digesting potion than any available to the Wizarding public. It is my own creation.” He dropped the rag onto the floor for his elves to retrieve and stood, bringing the girl with him back to his bed. Snape nearly laughed at the irony that his pet had technically been granted her request to be  _ taken to bed  _ before their consummation. He pulled the sheets and quilt up over her chest and under her chin, then shed his frock coat and climbed in beside her. “Close your eyes for twenty minutes or so and you will wake up good as new.”

“But I’ve already slept the day away.” Hermione protested with a drowsy smile on her face as the potions took hold.

Severus shrugged and nuzzled himself into the crock of her beck, giving the supple ivory skin one chased kiss that would have to appease him for now. “If you are staying asleep this easily in the early evening, then your body requires the rest. You must take care of yourself, Hermione. You are mine and you shall treat my property with respect. Now go to sleep. I do not wish to hear another word from you until I wake you for your last potions.” Before Miss Granger could protest, the darkness took her.


	13. You Are My Sunshine

_ “The other night dear, while I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken. So I bowed my head, and I cried.” Severus sang so low only the two of them could hear, rocking the sleeping child that whimpered in her magically induced sleep while he kissed the top of her head and sang into her black bob. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” _

_ Albus Dumbledore sat in front of him, a packed trunk between the two wizards, and shook his head at the sight before him. “And you told me you only wanted a child for the light.” _

_ “Oh shut up.” Snape grumbled, rocking a bit faster and trying to commit the smell of Ivy’s hair to memory.  _ **_This is not happening. It cannot be, as it is impossible._ ** _ A sob tore through his chest and tears streamed down the stern wizard’s face as he tightened his hold. _

_ “Severus, my boy, it is past time for us to go. The transporters wait outside.” Dumbledore patted him on the knee and leaned forward as if to stand. _

_ “No.” _

_ Albus quirked his head to the side. “What did you say?” _

_ Snape kissed the top of her head again, and stirred every bit of strength that was within him. “I will not do this and no one in this bloody castle can make me. I am calling it off. Tell them to leave.” _

_ The old wizard sighed and settled back down, the exasperation of a long night deepening each of his wrinkles. He had certainly expected the devastation, but it still grated on his every nerve. “She cannot remain here, Severus. Ivy has become a danger to herself, the students and the staff. More than that, she has become a danger to you. How can I allow you to keep her here when it could come at a cost of your very life? You will not do the right thing on your own, my boy, and have forced my hand in the matter.” _

_ “If you attempt this, I will leave with her.” The professor threatened, pursing his lips and again tightening his grip. No one would remove her from his arms without sending an unforgivable curse his way, and even then only one of the three would succeed for much longer than a moment. “You can keep your Potter boy alive all on your own. Find someone else to teach potions. She belongs with me! I am her father and I will not allow this, Albus. If I must end every life in this castle to escape with her then I will.” _

_ The pale blue eyes widened and his commonly noticed twinkle was nowhere to be found. “You do not mean that.” _

_ A slow nod was his first response, and his own black gaze flattened into a wall of emotionless determination. “Yes. I. Do.” _

_ “It doesn’t have to be forever. Just until-“ _

_ “Until you do not need me for your mysterious plans? Until you can spare yourself an errand boy? Well that is no concern of mine. She comes first, always. Ivy is my daughter and I will decide what is best for her. She is not going to St Mungos to be put away and forgotten in a spellproof room, damn the consequences. I simply will not allow it and if you do not send those bastards away this instant I will kill you. That is a promise.” Little did he know that in the end his justice would be dealt. _

This time, from the headmaster’s office rocking chair, his arms were cold and empty. And instead of a long white bearded wizard sitting across from him, a pursed lip Scottish witch sipped her evening tea and surveyed him cautiously. “Why are you here, Severus? What is there left to tell me? I know your darkest secrets and still I am your friend. Surely you find yourself bored of shameful confessions by now.”

He ran a hand through his greasy hair and pulled at the roots, cursing himself for picking up one of his godson’s ridiculous habits. Were his nerves really so short that he needed pain to mellow them? How could he cure Miss Granger when he himself was unable to keep from causing his body harm?

“Well? Out with it or I will be off to bed and you can brood on your own.”

Snape sighed and let his hand fall into his lap. “This is regarding  _ preparations  _ for my daughter's return to Hogwarts. Tomorrow afternoon Miss Granger and I shall fetch her from the train station and I simply seek reassurance that proper precautions have been put into place to prevent the issues the previous headmaster had with Ivy causing  _ disruptions _ in the learning environment.” He winced, remembering the burnt corridors and disarray of a dozen classrooms that had nearly caused her to be sent away at the tender age of seven. If only he had known the Dark Lord’s return would have taken her from him only two years later… it would have changed nothing. Any time with Ivy was worth the pain of losing her.

Minerva nodded along. “If by arrangements made you mean the staff informed that changes must be made then yes that has been taken care of. Beyond that I require your guidance in this matter. How is the girl best… contained?”

“A bodybind hex?” Severus offered with a half hearted chuckle, unsure himself of the answer. “I am unsure what measures Albus took the last time she was within these walls but they were tested daily and failed more often than not. I am led to believe that her professors have had a degree of success teaching her to harness and control her magic but I still fear her possible outbursts. It may be prudent to element-proof the dormitories and add additional sweeps to ensure students are not out of bed after hours. I would offer to do it myself but-“

“But you will be otherwise engaged.” She nodded along, more flustered than he had seen the witch in a long while. “Yes I understand. We will all do what we can to ease the transition. I assume she will need to be sorted in the next few days but for everyone’s safety she shall return to her old bedroom where you can keep a watchful eye. Madam Pomfrey has received your additional potions in the unlikely event of injuries occurring. We have excused Ivy from divination - the girl would eat Sybil alive. Flitwick is aware she will be using a dampened wand and should sit at the front of the class so any unintended projectiles will not be sent towards other children. Professor Sprout knows to keep a special eye on her more lethal plants and lock them up whenever possible. Sinistra is aware she will need to put an invisible boundary around any open areas of the astronomy tower, and I have transfigured all her textbooks into such tough materials that Hagrid could let his creatures use them as chew toys and not a word would smudge. We are as ready as we shall ever have any hope of being.”

“And Hagrid?”

“What of him?”

“Has he been made aware of how animal behavior may  _ alter _ in her presence.”

“No,” Professor McGonagall leaned back, a slight smile on her lips. “I myself thought it would be rather funny if he was confused by all his more irritable creatures becoming lovesick and drowsy. There’s no harm in an old witch having a bit of fun, is there?” 

Severus raised an eyebrow with amusement but said nothing else until the hour became late enough to politely excuse himself back to his rooms. There was a beautiful witch in his bed that he could not pass up wrapping in his arms to fall into a deep sleep.   
  
* * *

Hermione arranged to meet Harry and Ron at The Three Broomsticks the following afternoon. It was not a school approved Hogsmeade trip and for that the witch was obscenely grateful. A crowd would only serve to further complicate the task ahead of her. Severus has given her his mother’s engagement ring, charmed to fit her thinner fingers, in hopes it would help their talk go more smoothly. He seemed to favor her taking the engagement approach over the religion angle, but she disagreed. If they were to support her choice at all, it would be to join a cult over submitting to the bat of the dungeons.

“Mione!” Ron called out, dropped the tavern door onto his best mate’s outstretched hand. “Where have you been, Beautiful?” He threw his arms around her and lifted her feet from the ground, knocking a bit of the breath from her lungs.

“I should be asking the same thing about both of you.” She laughed, only gasping a bit, and happy when her feet met the ground. Harry hugged her as well, choosing to not bring her airborne or risk suffocating her. “My whereabouts have been far better accounted for than either of you two.”

Harry chuckled along, fetching the trio a round of butterbeers before Hermione could get a word in. He set the beverage in front of her and she thanked him, staring at the mug before her while her best friends sipped away. They spoke of auror training, studying for NEWTs, Bill and Fleur’s gorgeous new baby, and Harry’s plans to propose to Ginny after graduation.

“You’ve got to help me find the right ring, Hermione. Please, start poking around to see what she likes then we can go shopping. Maybe next weekend aft-”

“Oh shut it, Harry I don’t want to hear anymore about what you want to ask my sister. Pester me about it if she says yes.” Ron knocked back the rest of his drink and ordered another round for just the two of them. “Eh, Mione, this one is yours, you know?” He pushed the full mug a bit closer to her and she wrapped her hands around it.

Hermione forced a smile and thanked him under the breath but still did not lift it to her lips. “Unfortunately, I can’t drink this. I’m sorry, Harry. I should have thought of saying something before you spent your money. One of you should take it, really.” She pushed it towards the center of the table.

“Why not?” The red headed wizard pressed, taking his fresh drink from the barmaid. “You love butterbeer.”

The darker haired auror-in-training let his green eyes bug for a moment and cleared his throat. Harry wasn’t looking for the attention of the room. He was simply struggling to keep breathing. “Uh, Ron, back off her. She can’t.” Her friend shot her a look of pity, nodding with as much compassionate understanding as he could muster.

“Why the hell not?” Ron pressed.

Harry reached out, holding Hermione’s hand in his own and lowering his voice. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” He flushed, looked towards his own drink and ignored Ronald’s rude gaping beside him. “Is that what you wanted to tell us?” 

The witch shook her curls, blushing herself. “No, though if that is your first guess maybe you’ll both take this a lot better than I thought you would.”

“Take what better, exactly?” Ronald demanded, his nostrils flaring. Hermione knew that Ron had figured she he was done with his Lavender Brown fling, and Hermione finished school, that they would move to a country home near the burrow, work that the ministry together, get married, build a white picket fence around a meticulously tended garden, have at least seven children that they’d sent to Hogwarts September of their eleventh year and live contently ever after. Even someone as unobservant as Ron Weasley knew that a basilisk fang was about to be stabbed into his carelessly laid plans. Careless in that he had never asked Hermione what she wanted. “What, do you have a boyfriend? Never took you for the sleeping around type but maybe I’m a poor judge of character.” He scoffed, looking wounded. Had he also thought that while he screwed his way through their graduating class, she was going to be his untouched bride? A treat for what, his  _ unwavering _ devotion?

“Ron!”

“No, I-” She swallowed hard at the lump in her throat and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. “I just- I’m going to go get myself some water..” Water, along with the potions Snape dispensed for her, was all she could have until after the ceremony If her stomach had not already decided it was unable to handle food, she may have actually been hungry. Hermione scooted back in her chair, preparing to make a quick get away. Severus should have only been a few doors down at Gladrags Wizard wear, picking out clothes for Ivy to wear during her visit. If she could make it there before the boys caught up with her, he could apparate her right to school grounds.

The only deterrent to her escape was the hand that wrapped itself around her wrist - belonging to the second youngest Weasley - and yanked her forward, her head snapping back with the force. “Mione, what's going on? Are you in trouble? You can tell us. We’re basically aurors now and we can get you out of anything. It’s not a problem.”

A much larger hand clamped down on her shoulder, plopping her bruised arse back into the hard wooden chair eliciting a small cry that she could not bite back. “No, no, my darling girl. Do reassure your friends that there is no danger to save you from. Tell them that you’re happy.” Severus sneered behind her and the venom dripped from his words. She did not know how much of the conversation he had heard or how much of it her back end would be paying for later.

“Oy!” Ron’s hand grew tighter, and Harry took her other wrist. “Get your dirty mitts off her, you greasy git!”

Hermione sputtered, pulling pointlessly back at their grasps. “Boys, please. You’re hurting me. And you’re making a scene.” The cupped hand on her shoulder brushed down her arm passively, covering as much of her flesh as he could with his long fingers. Claiming her as his own.

Harry let go at her plea, instead letting her hand lay in his own. “Hermione, please talk to us. Tell us what’s going on. Why is Snape stroking you like a cat? You’re afraid. Something is wrong.” He leaned in, making himself smaller. A trick he learned in auror training most likely, to make abuse victims more comfortable speaking with law enforcement. As sweet as it was, Hermione found herself resenting his attempt at a bedside manor. It was patronizing, and his green eyes gave away more panic than they should have.

“Tell them that you’re fine, my pet.” Snape leaned down and left a hiss on the top of her head. “Tell them how much  _ fun  _ we have together.”

She gasped at the yank on her arm, and wands were quickly drawn. “Any  _ fun  _ you are having with a student is a crime, Snape. You will rot for this.” Ron spoke through clenched teeth, something that did not elicit the same fear in Hermione that it had in the past. Most of her conversations with Severus were delivered the same way and it had lost much of its potency.

“His pet?” Harry asked, looking at her over the other men. “Please tell me what’s going on, Mione. I’m here to help you. Nothing else has to happen as long as you’re safe.”

“Oh fuck that.” Ronald grumbled, “You’re coming with us. Going back to school was bloody ridiculous. Come on, we’re leaving.”

All eyes in the pub were trained on her, including three men each laying claim to her person, the barmaid, Hogsmeade day drunks and primary age children peeking in the dusty windows at the commotion. It didn’t matter that Hermione still had her fall cloak tied around her shoulders, creating another layer over her uniform and school robes. She felt completely exposed, more naked than she’d ever been in her life. “I can’t.” She sobbed, the aching in her wrist turning to pins and needles as her blood circulation was lost.

Snape noticed only moments after it began, sending a stinging hex at the boy that held her that distracted him long enough for her to pull her hand back to her lap. “Miss Granger is just fine, you dunderheads. And I have committed no crime. My religious freedom and marital rights take precedence over a ridiculous policy the ministry hasn’t enforced in decades.” Not that they’d had to. No one else had challenged the restriction, opting instead to take lovers in nearby towns. “My submissive is not going anywhere with either of you. She will be returning where she belongs, which is at Hogwarts completing her education. More specifically, sitting at my feet and sprawled naked in my bed. Miss Granger was trying to ask the two of you to attend her marking tomorrow evening, but I will need to withdraw that invitation as you have both seen fit to let your tempers run away with you and put your hands all over my bride. It is time to go, little witch. I cannot allow you to fall ill by not taking your fasting potion at regular intervals.”

Harry gaped, while Ron turned a shade of purple that Hermione did not know the name of. “Mione, help me out here. Submissive? Bride? Your marking? What does this mean?”

Her other friend huffed, cutting her off when she opened her mouth to speak. It was becoming a pattern amongst the men in her life as of late. “Snape belongs to a cult of self absolving, witch enslaving, kill-then-pat-themselves-on-the-back, arseholes that call themselves The Light Of Redemption. It means he's beating her, Harry. Black and bloody blue. She’s probably been starving herself for what, a week now? It makes their barbaric fertility potions work. Then on Sunday, he is going to brand her like a farm animal, which our fucked up employers will consider a legal marriage. He’ll stick his prick in her until she’s popped out a dozen kids or more then toss her out like garbage.”

“Is this true?” Harry’s voice trembled.

Ron stood, pointing his wand at the neck of their former potions professor. “Don’t worry, mate. She won’t suffer for long. Their wives tend to have  _ accidents  _ when a young piece of tail catches their eye. Hermione will be dead soon if this bloke has anything to say about it.”

Severus pulled his witch into his arms, away from Harry’s reach, and allowed her to sob into his coat. “Shh my love, he doesn’t know what he’s saying. Forgive his ignorance.”

Her nose was stuffy and swollen shut deep in her nasal passages, plugging her ears as well. The world sounded as underwater as she felt, drowning in pointed glares and poisonous accusations. “I forgive you, Ronald.” She mumbled.

“Forgive me for what? Trying to protect you?”

Snape petted her hair for a moment, then curled his fingers close to her roots and gave the locks a gentle tug to calm her. “And wish him light.”

Hermione nodded into his jacket. “I pray you find the warm embrace of light, Auror Weasley.” She gasped out the last few words, melting in his arms at the agony that tightened in her chest. Her nails dug into his cloak and he shushed her, rocking the standing girl back and forth like a child in need of sleep.

“We are going to go now, as we have a schedule to keep to.” Severus told both her and the flustered wizards. They turned towards the door, pausing, before Snape thought better of it. “And Potter, if you would like to attend the marking ceremony without the company of your less tactful friend, I am sure my pet would be pleased. She wished to ask you to be her hand tamer, which is a tremendous honor that I would not turn down if I were you. A toe into your own redemption, so to speak. If you can’t make it, I will need to call upon my godson Draco to stand in your place. Miss Ginerva Weasley was going to be her maid but my daughter, Ivy, has stepped forward to assume that role and the issue has been settled. I bid you both good health and guiding light.”

In a flurry of black robes and overgrown hair, the pair exited the tavern and ducked down an alleyway, where Hermione’s broken heart was able to peacefully shatter into the million pieces she felt it was in. His hands ran over her body, rubbing away tension where it cramped her muscles and brushing her cares away along with it. “You are alright. Breathe, little witch, please.” Snape begged, her gasps for breath creating a sympathetic cramp in his own chest. “I am here now. Everything is fine.”

Hermione nodded into his chest, reaching up to cup his face. The soft pads of her fingers brushed over the light stubble that had grown since his shave that morning, and she hummed with peace. “Thank you, Master.”

His fingers curled around his, gently removing her from his cheek, and he examined her with a furrowed brow. “The vicious brute hurt you.” Severus rotated her wrist in his hand, eliciting gasps and groans through her teeth. Her bones groaned and popped against the inflamed flesh and from the corner of her eye she could spot the fist shaped bruises rising to the surface. “It’s not broken, but I cannot say much else that’s hopeful. Mister Weasley should learn to keep his hands to himself.”

“Please don’t hate him, Master.” She begged as he muttered diagnostic spells over her marred flesh. “Ronald has always had a tem- OUCH- that he wasn’t taught to contr- urgh.” 

Severus cursed to himself, wrapped his arm around the witch and walked her deeper into the alley, stopping at the back door to Dervish and Banges, working through their wards and ushering her inside. “Do not make excuses for him.” Her master barked, rushing to the selection of  _ Poppy Pomfrey’s Pocket Apothecary  _ potions and salves on the lower shelves. “At least these are my creations. Anything less would leave you with permanent damage, not to mention contradict your current regimen. No friend does this, Miss Granger.” He grabbed a pain relief potion and some bruise paste, muttered at the shopkeep that he would send replacements the following day. “Sit down over here.” Snape grumbled, leading her to the stoop in front of the building and kneeling down to get working.

“Ooofff.” Hermione vocalized her pain while Severus worked over her wrist with diligence and focus. “I’m sorry, Master. This is my fault. I should have left when things became heated.”

“Nonsense.” He quipped, uncapping the jar of paste and rubbing nearly the entire concoction over the marks with two fingers. “It means nothing to me how angry Ronald Weasley found himself. This is absolutely unacceptable behavior for a gentleman to exhibit. If this is how he treats you as his friend, I am eternally grateful that you never returned the romantic interest he so clearly has for you. It would have been nearly no time at all until his temper harmed you most severely. The entitled prat…”

Hermione caught a look at her friends walking past, watching the two of them on the step, and rushing away when her eyes met theirs. She had never had too many friends in this world, and after the war so many that she did find close enough to confide in had died. They were nearly all she had left and now, she was unsure if she would see them again. Even if they could look past her choices, would her husband ever trust her in the same room as them? What would stop the wizards from grabbing ahold of her and apparating her far out of his reach? How far would they go to keep her from their imagined threat?

“How do you feel now?” Snape asked, dropping the empty tub into his pocket and tilting the pain relief potion down her throat. “Is that better, my pet?”

She bobbed her head, swallowing a few times to clear the taste from her tongue. “Yes. It’s still sore but I suppose it will just be that way until I can get some ice on it.”

Severus bowed his head, kissing the joint and muttering a cooling spell that felt like a constant cool breeze over her skin. He helped her to her feet and allowed her to lean on him under his arm while they walked to the train station. He had shrunk the packages from his shopping to fit inside his cloak, and found himself wishing he could do the same with Miss Granger. It seemed to be that encasing her in a protective bubble and keeping her on his person, out of sight, would be the only way to prevent the glares and rude comments from wounding his fragile bride. Those with the sharpest of tongues would never know the self inflicted horrors he had saved his pet from. All they would see is the former death eater, killer of Albus Dumbledore, and acerbic potions master taking advantage of the young, scared, witch of the golden trio. All the while, extinguishing the light of her potential until she burned only bright enough to birth his babies and sweep the dungeon floors. They would never know that without him, the girl’s entire potential would have been ripped away from the world. One day she would have cut too deep in her search for relief from the agony within, and bled out on the floor of her flat long before she could give the world much more than an almost completed apprenticeship or new filing system at the ministry. She was worth so much more than that life would have ever given her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this is not tagged for Ron Weasley Bashing because that is not what we are going to be doing. This is just one of the first times Hermione will be exposed to prejudice against their religion in the wizarding world and prejudice can be unlearned.


	14. No Imitation or Substitution

_“Why won’t you tell me what you want in bed?”_

_“Because, Miss Granger, some things can only be taught through hands-on experience. I have to insist you drop this and eat your supper.” He gestured at her plate with the tines of his fork. “Go on.”_

_Hermione stabbed a small piece of pot roast and chewed it with fire in her eyes, making a show of flaring her nostrils behaving as if she was quite agitated. “But I have only a few days until I have to know how to please you. I’ve never done any more than kissed a boy and never really kissed one. I need to be prepared.”_

_Damn, she is adorable while angry. “You have nothing but time, my pet. We have all our lives to learn one another’s bodies and pleasures and it will take practice between us as it does with any pairing. Those that speak of toe curling first times are either greatly embellishing, overly romanticizing or falsifying their accounts entirely. The consummation is not for our fantasies; it is for the light. The blood of your maidenhead is the first tribute you are to offer as a marked woman. All you must do is follow the example of the book and the deed will be just as accomplished as if you had instructions to study. Consider the matter no more.”_

_“There is more to it than that and I know it.” Hermione sighed and pushed away her food.“I just… I want you to enjoy yourself.”_

_Severus smirked, then let it soften when he saw the hurt in her eyes. “I can assure you, Miss Granger, that I shall.”_

_“How?”_

_He sipped his wine. “There is nothing more erotic than marking a virgin witch and then taking her in the marriage bed. Trust me in this matter. As far as your enjoyment is concerned - and it does concern me- I shall tell you that I am quite experienced in the art of curing female hysteria.” The embarrassed girl paled, and Snape nudged her glass closer, smirking at his own joke and lowering his raised eyebrows. “If you simply must learn something - or slip carelessly into madness - then I can certainly be reasonable. Another lesson straight away, never fear. I have spent the last twenty years fighting. I have fought darkness, light, wizards, witches, lovers, family, and Albus Bloody Dumbledore himself. That time in my life is over. I will not fight with you and if you know what is good for you, you will refrain from putting me in a position where I feel the need to.”_

_Never having been quite attuned to social cues, her grating personality had coaxed a temper from even the most stable mannered men. That had been the longest winded version of ‘drop it’ that Hermione had ever heard. “Fine. I won’t argue.” Her prey instincts were in full effect and she chewed her lip, resisting the urge to fight, while knowing she also had nowhere to flee to. “Te- Please tell me another one, Master.”_

_Severus observed the little witch, sitting on the edge of her chair and bouncing with discomfort that no one had ever taught her to learn to sit with._ **_A lesson for another day._ ** _“Alright.” He thought for a moment, attempting to determine what would be of most use to Miss Granger over the next week. “Despite what you may hear from the hateful and grossly misinformed, taking a witch against her will is inviting dark magic of the nastiest sort to infect a wizard. It would take a lifetime of pristine behavior to restore such a sullied soul. And I do not believe in using sexual relations - or the lack thereof - as a tool for manipulation or as anything other than a connective and mutually enjoyable experience. Having said that, I have no problem utilizing the pleasures of the flesh as a reward should they be desired.” The wizard winked at a blank faced Miss Granger so quickly that she was certain she must have missed his other eye’s movement._

 _“I don’t quite understand what you mean, Master.”_ **_Had he just told her a joke?_ **

_“To be crass, my pet, I think that a naughty witch should get the strap while a well behaved witch can earn herself a good fucking.” Professor Snape chuckled at her gaping expression. “Oh fear not, you shall come to enjoy your rewards. A man does not live to my age without learning how to please a woman. And as for the punishments, they are too good for you. I only aim to break you of habits that are the dark magic’s work.”_

_“What...What respectable wizard would ever use physical intimacy as a punishment for his wife? Or as some sort of expected duty that she does not wish to do? Why would someone even consider it?”_

_Snape shook his head. “Now, do not pass judgment and assume it makes an evil man. Kingsley has had to order Lysis bed from time to time to maintain their marking and I believe Bill Weasley has taken that approach as well.” She dropped her jaw and he pushed it up with his index finger. “The Delacours have been followers of the light for generations. Conversion was required if Weasley wished to marry the witch and it stands to reason that he was taught the traditional way her family has practiced.”_

_“How do you know that?”_

_Severus stopped, his nostrils flaring for a moment before he relaxed and returned to his plate. “If you must know, Ivy’s mother was a Delacour.”_

_Hermione pursed her lips, and considered his words. If he had a child, that child had a mother. Whether or not she was a former marked witch, a legal wife or a lover was unknown to her, and despite the nagging impulse to ask that rested at the tip of her tongue, the witch knew she did not want an answer. Instead, she narrowed in to his comments on Lysis. “Does she really not love him, as he loves her? Kingsley and his wife, I mean.”_

_“Excuse me?” Severus scoffed and put down his wine glass. “I believe you have the details twisted, Miss Granger. Lysis adores her lord, as she should, but he is preoccupied with his_ **_true_ ** _love. She is an obligation to him and nothing more.”_

_“I wasn’t aware men drooled over their obligations.” She sat back, looking at her master with a mischievous smile. “I will remind you of that fact when it is your turn to do the dishes.”_

_“I am not a forgetful man.”_   
* * *

“Come, sit here. You need rest.” Snape ushered Hermione to the bench nearest the center of the arrival platform. Ivy would be looking for him there, he was quite certain, as it was where he had been standing when she had left.

Hermione sat in silence, her wrist aching and memories of the flirtatious wizard she had found living within her potions master floating through her mind. It would have been impressive - perhaps even charming - the way he could change his face then change it again if she had not found herself with whiplash. She suppressed a sigh, admitting to herself that it _was_ charming the way he changed and then changed again before her very eyes, deftly moving from one role to another without rousing any suspicion or distrust. A potions master, a loyal servant, an educator of young minds, a devout follower of his faith, a father, a healer and soon, a lover.

Standing on the platform, Severus tapped his foot impatiently. It had been four years since he had laid eyes on his child, or been able to reach out to soothe her woes and wipe her tears away, and if he was made to wait a minute longer due to train delay caused by dunderheads who could not keep to a departure and arrival schedule he would hex every last one of them. “Where the hell are they?”

Lifting her hand that felt heavier than it had ever been, she pointed a finger at a harsh glow that laid further down the track, half tucked behind a row of trees. “Isn’t that the engine light?”

“Miss Granger!” Snape snipped, muttering aguamenti under his breath. He placed the unbreakable glass in her outstretched hand and helped it to her lips, then held the back of his hand on her forehead. “Are you aware that you were pointing at the sun? And running a fever comparable to its surface temperature? You are not handling your fertility potions very well, and the anti nausea elixirs may not be helping the situation. Just sit still, drink this and allow me to do what we came here to do.”

A whistle in the distance caused the wizard to close his eyes and sigh in a mixture of defeat and relief. “Thank the light.” He turned the other way, keeping a hand on his pet to keep her steady and watching the train cars rush past them while the locomotive slowed. She would be in first class, as he always sent her when she traveled, so he was pleased to notice when the gold trimmed windows of the most plush car stopped only a stone's throw from their bench. “Hermione, lean back and stay here. Do not move a muscle.” He gave the girl one last firm look before turning and stalking off with his robes billowing behind him.

_“Hello, Ivy Vortrula Snape, I am your father.”_

_No! That is ridiculous. It is not as if we are meeting for the first time._

_“My little love, I have missed you.”_

_What do you want, Snape? Her to believe you can be walked all over and pushed around? She’s thirteen and Veela. You would be a goner._

_“Welcome home, Ivy.”_

_It was... not terrible. Not good but not the most awful thing you have ever said._ It was nothing he would come to regret as far as he could tell and Severus Snape has plenty of experience analyzing regrettable actions. It was the only chance he had not to be doomed to repeat them.

The gold trimmed door opened and a rail worker stepped out, placed down a velvet cushion for the sore feet of the weary traveling witches that he helped one by one down the steps. He held their hand in his white glove, and Severus tried to focus on each of the witches as they exited, counting them along the way.

_One. Too tall._

_Two. Too robust._

_Three. Far too old._

_Four. Hair too light._

_Five. What is that ridiculous hat for? Her hair is far too long._

But at that he stopped, realizing all at once that not only did he have no clue what length his daughter’s hair was but also that the dark long brimmed hat shielded the young girl’s face, and was further draped in sheer black fabric over ivory skin. She wore a simple black dress with long sleeves, a hem that brushed the top of her leather shoes and a belt around the waist that tied behind her back. At the neckline, which stopped at an area of the chest that was commonly believed to be socially acceptable, he could see that a busy patterned lace turtleneck layering garment began. The ensemble, sewn of blessed fabrics likely within the walls of a French temple - they were known to add more frivolous touches than their English counterparts - would have easily cost a hundred galleons. And he knew _exactly_ the student that would have that type of money just sitting around.

He locked black eyes with the girl, then bowed at the waist and watched her dutifully curtsy back at him. They both raised back up in time, and greeted one another with respectable smiles.

“Miss Ivy Vortrula Snape, as I live and breathe. I feared I would never see you again.” Snape cleared his throat, the tightness that came with his admission becoming more than a little uncomfortable. _Why did you say that?_ He had to hold back his look of realization when he remembered that he had been faced with a maturing half veela. Thirteen was not too young to find herself more influential than her witch peers. Her very presence had lowered the barriers of his mind and provoked him to tell the complete truth. She could do this to any witch, wizard, goblin, gnome, serpent, and sentiment portrait she encountered. The potions Master was completely and utterly fucked.

She lifted her veil, tucking it securely in the band of her hat. The void that stared back at him searched the wizard carefully, but glowed with affection. “I never thought I would be permitted to return. And I apologize for the delay. The train staff is composed entirely of the incapable and purposefully negligent.”

“Indeed.” 

There was no falsifying the look she gave him, the way she spoke just like him and the power that radiated off of the witch that he spoke to. This was no imposter. Wiser than a child, pain behind her eyes that reflected his own. Not mature enough to be a woman, her face still rounded with childhood. Visibly teetering on the wall between establishment of complete graceful control and reaching the peak of her abilities in the years to come. A peak that she would never fall from, moving forward into the centuries ahead.

“I was told by the temple women that fetched me from school that you will have a wife tomorrow evening.” She pulled the black gloves from her own hands and folded them casually, stuffing them into the hidden pockets at her sides. “I was _also_ told that I have been promised to Draco Malfoy.” Her arms crossed with defiance. _That_ was _definitely_ his daughter.

Snape nodded slightly. “Eventually. Should you wish for it.”

“Hmm,” She studied the ground. “I very well may. When shall the courtship begin?”

Settling down to business, more familiar to him than the emotions both father and daughter were uncomfortable expressing, Severus counted his lucky stars he did not have to tell her of the promise himself. There was no doubt the woman escaped with the scars of a magical outburst. “Tomorrow evening. He has agreed to look after you in the prefect quarters. The girl’s room is empty and the walls have eyes. You have nothing to fear.”

“So, I am not returning to school?” Ivy asked.

He reached a hand out which she took with a comfort he was thankful had endured the space and time between them. “That is up to you.”

“Oh, well there’s no sense…” She trailed off, shaking her head to dispel whatever had crossed her mind. “I brought all of my belongings, as I have no interest in going back to France.” Her words were a test, and it was one he knew all too well. 

At that he truly did smile, and a laugh he hadn’t heard in so long let his ears. “Welcome home.”


	15. Friends Once

“Ivy, this is Miss Granger. Please excuse her coloring.” Severus released his daughter’s hand and put his back on Hermione’s burning forehead. “She is not usually this shade of green.”

His daughter bowed her head slightly in greeting which Hermione repeated, toppling forward into the body of her master before righting herself. Or had he righted her? The constant aching on every inch of her skin - as if the air around her exerted as much pressure as at the bottom of the lake - made it difficult for her to tell.

A veiled ghost floated in front of her, the soft childlike tones of the voice not matching the graceful movements she made to help her to her feet. “May the light be with you, Miss Granger. Father, how do we intend to get her back to the school? She looks ready to keel over at any minute.”

“I will carry her.” Severus announced and Ivy nodded along. “Keep your wand at the ready incase it is needed for any reason. Not that I suspect there will be one.”

“I always do.” 

A swell of pride warmed the wizard as he lifted his bride in his arms and headed back past the ticket booth towards the road they would take back to the castle. They received more than their fair share of funny looks, and Snape was not confident of the cause.

Apparently, neither was Ivy. “Have they never seen traditional dress before? Or a gentleman, for Merlin’s sake.”

Hermione closed her eyes and felt the belly of her wizard shake for a moment. “Ten seconds, tell me why Merlin was significant in as much detail as you can.”

Behind him, he heard a leather shoe kick rock off the path. “Merlin followed the light and adapted the Peruvian ceremony for peaceful joining of magic in times of crisis to utilize ingredients easily found in Europe. He marked seven witches in his life, all but one of them platonically to ensure their reserves would not be depleted after they suffered from vampire attacks and had no children other than the son adopted from his third wife and the daughter conceived with his sixth.”

“Very good.”

“What about…” Miss Granger lifted her head weakly. “What about King Arthur's court? The cursed vaults? Founding the Order of Merlin? Those are certainly significant.” 

Ivy skipped ahead of them, walking backwards so swiftly that it impossibly made Hermione _more_ dizzy. “That would be too easy. Anyway, he was not rejected in his time the way we are today. The false lord made anything _different_ appear as if it is rooted in evil. Hence what that red headed boy did to your arm.”

“How did you-“

Snape purses his lips. “Legilimency, Miss Granger. A light art, remember? And Ivy dear, stay out of her head. You’ll shatter the poor woman entirely and I do hate puzzles.” Piecing Hermione’s memories of the last week of her unmarked life would be a project already.

“I was not in her head.” His daughter said, desire for chaos evident in her voice. “I was in yours. Enjoy dreaming of cabbages.”

The wizard groaned with a feigned air of defeat and hid the amazement at her capabilities. If that was all possible at the age of thirteen, he could not even begin to imagine her potential. He had chosen the right mother for his child.   
Further up the path, a figure waited for them with his own aura of impatience and excitement. Severus had not asked him to meet them there, but had informed the young Malfoy when Ivy’s train was set to arrive. What he did with that information was entirely up to him.

Draco jogged up the path to meet them, and lifted Ivy off the ground with a crushing embrace. _What is with these handsy boys? Did no one teach them manners?_ Snape nearly hissed before he remembered the consequences of the promise he had made. It was probably better that she get used to not shocking, burning, liquefying or launching her future lord away sooner rather than later. Burying his godson would be more difficult than tolerating his foolishness.

“Where the hell have you been, Ivy Lane?” Draco asked, stuttering on the last word and looking to Snape for reassurance. Or was it approval? Either way, Severus nodded in agreement and urged him with his eyes to go on. The potions master did not _love_ it - Vortrula was beautiful and had significance to the Delacours - but it was well within Draco’s right to make the change. 

Ivy laughed and kicked her feet until she was put down. “At school. Where have _you_ been? You have not even sent me a letter in two years. I cannot imagine you were so focused on quidditch that you could not take a moment to find a quill and parchment to write to me.”

The boy paled and swallowed hard. Again, his gaze met his godfather’s and at that Severus shook his head. She did not need to know at that exact moment that Draco had taken the dark mark and been temporarily relieved of his memory that she existed. “Well, I’ll make it up to you now. Soon, you’ll be sick of me. What’s wrong with Granger? She looks like death.”

“The girl has a high fever. We need to get her into an ice bath. I do not see it prudent to give her another potion for her body to metabolize. It would do more harm than good.” Snape adjusted the way she had slipped down his body and jutted his chin towards the path to indicate they had to move on. “Quickly now. Draco, I need you to fetch ice from the kitchens and Ivy, dear, you can help me get her undressed and into the water. I believe she is far beyond comprehending what we are doing so I would not be surprised if she fought us.”

Draco dumped two canvas bags of ice into the tub that Ivy had filled and Severus held Hermione with a cold cloth on her forehead. She had been stripped down to her undergarments but draped in a towel before his godson had arrived. Her modesty would be lost by the next evening - as markings were performed in the nude - but it felt wrong when she was not conscious enough to realize what was happening.  
“Father, it’s ready.”

Snape carried her over and lowered the girl into the bath, endlessly charming the water surface opaque before removing the then soaked fabric. Hermione shivered, her teeth chattering and eyes pinching shut. He brushed her hair out of her face where the sweat stuck it to her skin and poured the cool water handful by handful over her forehead. When his witch whimpered, a pain in a part of his chest that he had not felt in many years and he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “Everything is alright, my dear. I am right here.” This ache was all too familiar, and had nearly been the end of him. How many times would he have to hold the body of a woman - or girl - he loved and wonder if it would be their last moment together? Severus had to send the thoughts out of his mind. He would not lose Miss Granger. All she had to do was hold out another day.

Ivy and Draco averted their eyes in the same direction, both avoiding the private moment they had unintentionally witnessed. She gave a slight nod towards the door and he agreed with smirk, so they headed back into the main room of the professor’s quarters. The raven haired girl turned in circles, visibly overwhelmed and Draco sat down, watching her.

“What’s wrong?”

She sighed. “I haven’t been here in a long time.”

“Well uhh,” Draco cleared his throat and stood hesitantly, putting his hands in the pockets of his black trousers and unsuccessfully trying to figure out what in particular she was looking at. “I’m glad you are. Here, I mean. And that you were able to wait until it was safe to come back. Things never got too bad in France, did they?”

“No, they didn’t.”

Reaching out more hesitantly than before, with full knowledge that there was no one to save him if the interaction went badly, Draco gently grasped one of her hands and rubbed the back of it with his thumb. It was a gesture he had learned from his mother, who did it absentmindedly when she would help him cross the street or while they rode by train or carriage. The motion was a small sliver of connection that he could offer in a cold and harsh world that was notably unfair. Especially one he had made so. “Ivy, do you want me to send our betrothal declaration to the temple? We don’t have to. _You_ don’t have to.” He just had to offer. That was all his obligation entailed.

Her neck snapped quickly, the girl next to him reminding Draco of a raven that did not appreciate being snuck up on. But her eyes were not radiating with anger, or malice, or the impossibly worse adoration that he had feared. They were blank. Lifeless. No light beyond their black depths. For a moment, he thought they were barely human. His cheeks turned pink when he remembered that they were not. Ivy _was_ as close to a pure blooded Veela as he had ever stood. It was for that reason, he assumed, that his heart had began thumping short shallow beats, like a prey animal paralyzed with fear and unable to run. Unable to save himself from the torment he would endure at her hands. It would not even be her fault.

“Yes, I think that should be arranged.” Ivy squeezed back weakly, her much appreciated attempt at gentleness not lost on Draco. Though a predator, she was still a thirteen year old girl who stumbled through social situations and lacked the grace in her own skin to match the intelligence she had inherited from her father. “Is it true that you only chose to follow the light because ritual can save Astoria Greengrass? And that she is having your baby?” Her subtlety also left something to be desired.

Draco nodded. “Yes. Though I probably would have agreed eventually. Just not until I made a few hundred more mistakes.”

“You mean not before you had fun?” She let go, pulling her hand back to put in her own pockets and sheepishly staring down the stone and grout. “I don’t blame you for wanting that. And I’m not going to stop you from your fun, Draco. I will do my duties to stand by you, Astoria and the baby. I’ll spend the time I am supposed to but I don’t expect you to bring me flowers or any of that nonsense. I am perfectly fine helping you both catch up on chores or reading a book while you go see your mates or the girls you would have otherwise filled your time with. This doesn’t have to be like my father told you it would. This is our path to chart.”

A smile played at the edges of her lips, but he knew she faced away from him to hide the tears. It was a smile to hide her sadness, not embrace her joy. _Why did she say that?_ Draco swallowed the lump in his throat that made it difficult to breathe. “You know, we were friends once, weren’t we? Could you let me be just your friend? I have to say, there is no one but you and Astoria that I would rather spend my time with. I am not the wizard you seem to think I am.”

“I don’t _think_ anything about you, Draco. I know you. And I know what second wives are rarely objects of their Lord’s affection. That’s fine with me.” Ivy stepped away and only looked up when she had made it to the kitchenette and put the tea kettle over flames. “I don’t want any of _that._ Even when that time comes I want things to remain as they are. Alright?”

The young Malfoy sat back down, his happiness dampened but relief washing away his fears. Even if she changed her mind when childhood fell away, making space for schoolgirl crushes and dreams of white wedding gowns, he could live with what she wished. If only for today. “That’s alright with me, Ivy Lane.” 


	16. Choosing Her Again

When night fell at the Shacklebolt home, Lysis ordered their girls into their sleeping garments, walked them through their protective enchantments, brought them to her Lord in his study for a blessing and kiss goodnight then sent them off to bed with a playful spank towards their rooms. It was a routine that she found great peace in, concluding her day with the love of the beautiful children Kingsley had given them. After that, she had very little left to do but be dismissed.

Lysis poured a generous glass of elf made wine in the kitchen and magically wedged the cork back into place. Some nights she would pour two - and rarely but not impossibly a third - to unwind from churning of dates, times, spells, puzzles, and questions that mucked up her mind. Tonight, it would provide her no relief. Dreamless sleep, it was.

“My Lord, I have brought your wine.” She knocked on the frame of his open study door, and reached the beverage out towards him which he accepted with a smile.

“Thank you, my Lysis. You bring me warmth each day. I thank the light for you.” Kingsley took a sip and gestures towards his spare seat. “My wife, sit. Rest from your hard work and tell me what thoughts are on your mind”

Lysis took a reluctant seat across from her Lord and drummed her fingers on the tops of her thighs. Under his scrutinizing eye was the last place she wanted to be, still unsettled from her talk with Severus the day of Genesis’s most recent melt down. Would he read her thoughts, if given a clear shot and a spare moment? Usually she could stay out of sight and keep him out of her mind. Kingsley did not deserve reminders of things he could not control. Feelings she could not push away. “Nothing but thoughts of the light, my Lord. You have given me your son and I am grateful.”

“But surely there is more.” He nearly groaned, and put down his glass to keep from shattering the stem in his grip. “You are very smart. I am sure that you have something going on that would engage me.”

She shook her head and averted her gaze to her lap. It would be harder for him to sneak past her defenses if she didn’t make eye contact. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t.”

“I see,” Kingsley sighed, and crossed his arms tensely, his normally kind brown eyes boring holes into the top of her head. She would not let him see her this way. The embarrassment would be inescapable. “Genesis is out and won’t return until we must leave for Lord Snape’s ceremony. It affords us some time to have a conversation that I’ve been putting off for a while now.”

Lysis swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and felt her bottom lip tremble through her question. “What conversation is that, my dearest and most powerful Lord.”

“Don’t do that!” He snapped, more venom in his words than he had allowed in years. Kingsley did not yell at his wives or children, as a rule that breaking would compromise his honor and the light within him. Those days were over. Lysis didn’t flinch. The minister took comfort in the fact that she showed no signs of being afraid. “I’m sorry, my love. Please, don’t say things like that. Don’t go through your temple teachings like they’re a script. This is not a ceremony, this is _life._ This is our marriage. Talk to me. Say my _name._ Come to me, sweet girl. Unless you-”

“Unless I, what?”

Kingsley sighed. It had to be said. “Unless you no longer wish to be married to me.”

Only then did Lysis afford herself a look at the wizard that stared her down with sadness in his strained gaze. Who was this man she’d married? How could he not see her love? Was her work sunrise to sunset not sufficient in showing her devotion? She would let him see. If it took looking into her mind then she would put herself naked on the altar for him to tear his way through. “Of course I do.”

“God dammit, Lysis…” He grumbled to himself, more than at her. Why was speaking to her like screaming into the veil and expecting an answer? Kingsley had never lied to her. He had never promised more than he could give. From the beginning she had known how much of his attention Genesis’s care demanded. “How many years has it been since you were promised to me? Do you remember how old you were? You were fourteen. We married when you were nineteen. You’re twenty-seven, Lysis. We’ve been going in circles over and over and over again for thirteen years and I’m exhausted from chasing you. How are you _not_ exhausted from all that running?”

“I’m not running.” She nearly whined, feeling like a scolded child for milk that was spilt across the floors. Could he not see that avoidance was never her intention? “I love you, my lord. With all my heart.”

His hand, smooth and strong, took hold of her shaking fingers. “I want nothing more than to believe that. I adore you both. Genesis is my beginning and you, Lysis, are my end. But how can we keep lying to ourselves by pretending that you want to be with me?”

“I do!”

“Then why do you never come to me? My bed is yours and you choose to sleep alone.” Kingsley allowed his hands to venture upwards, trailing his fingertips along the sensitive skin at the crook of her neck and wishing that she squirmed at his touch instead of froze. “This. You never want me to touch you and I can’t understand why. In the temple, we connected just as we always have, and I can’t help but wonder if you’re punishing me for something.”

She let out a dry sob, and bored her eyes into his. “I’m not, my lord. And I do want you. Look for yourself if you won’t believe me.”

The wizard stiffened, temptation bringing him shame that he simply could not rectify. “No. I am not a man who forces himself upon a woman who has said repeatedly she does not wish for her mind to be invaded. You said that the first day we spoke and that means something to me, Lysis. Please tell me it means the same to you.”

“I don’t understand what you want from me.” Her voice cracked as she held back cries of frustration and hopelessness. “I did what I thought I was supposed to do, Kingsley! I played nurse to Genesis and I gave you Violet and I performed the conception ceremony and still I am not _enough_ for you because I am not her. I will never be her, the woman you married for love. Do you understand how agonizing that is? Joining the bed of a man who would rather be with someone else? Especially because you _can_ be with her as long as I stay away. Everything I do is in the effort to make you happy and still you’re disappointed with me. Where do I go from here? What do I do? How do I be with a man that will always love someone else more?”

Kingsley felt a heaviness in his heart far greater than the thought that Lysis no longer wished to be married to him. The weight of that had made him tired and anxious, while the weight of her words sent him to his knees before her. A lord kneeling before his marked witch was not proper and not done. How could she ever honor him if she was above? But the weakness in his legs and the desperate ache in his chest did not care what was proper or what was meant to be. The light did not have the ability to know what it felt like to be a man who stumbled upon a wounded animal.

“I do not wish for you to be anyone but who you are, Lysis. When I was given you, it was the proudest moment of my life.” The minister pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and learned his chin on her knee, kissing the inside of her thigh with as much sweet devotion as he could express through such a dull means as physical touch. “I _chose_ you, just as much as I did her. Except I didn’t stumble upon you and come to your rescue. I was given my pick of witches to mark, I had seen pictures and looked through books and gone to parties with introductions. There were hundreds, Lysis. Many of them were grown witches and flirted as if it was an art, I could have marked them next week but I said no. I. Picked. You. And I did that for one reason. From the day we met I saw you as mine. Not my wife - not then, you were so young - but my _person._ My _partner_ in this life and the next. Genesis is many wonderful things, but she is not someone to have a partnership with. She must be managed. I fell in love with her because she needed me and I fell in love with you despite the fact that you didn’t.”

“I-“ The witch struggled for the words to follow such a proclamation. What would be sufficient to speak her heart without sounding lame in the hot air that still floated around her face from his desperate breaths?

“You what, my love?” Kingsley kissed her again and looked up to her with a pleading she had never seen. Had he been this sad losing friends in the war? When Genesis had miscarried? The countless hours he had worked in the temple with widows and allowed them to cry into his robes while telling stories of the lords they missed? Or had he always been this way? “Tell me, I beg of you.”

Lysis clasped her small hand over his larger one, pressing it into her flesh. “May I be with you tonight?”

White teeth were shown in a broad smile before he descended upon her lips. “Yes. Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Shacklebolt family had something to say. The day of the marking will begin in the next chapter and we’ll see how far it gets into the day. I believe it will very likely be two or three chapters to encompass the entire day.


	17. Revelations

Severus carried Ivy to bed soon after he did Hermione, as both of them had fallen asleep on the floor by the fire going through text books and his daughter’s portfolio of pencil drawings. His godson was still awake, sipping firewhisky and staring into the dancing flames. It was the wee hours of the morning, and neither wizard was prepared to face what would go on behind their eyes if they fell asleep. Most nights haunting images of revels plagued their dreams, but those could be tolerated. It could be decided they were an exaggeration, until the screaming started. Those cries for mercy went on for hours, only rivaled in darkness by the silence when it was finally given. Former Death Eaters did many things after the war, but none of them forgot.

“Where is your fiancee tonight? Do you not have baby name books to page through or whatever it is you do?” Snape grumbled and sat back into his chair, picking up his own scalding drink. “I never used a book, by the way. Handled it the old fashioned way, I looked at her and I knew who she was meant to be. This ‘Ivy Lane’ business is cute but does it truly fit her?”

Draco turned and studied his godfather's expression for signs of anger or jest, but saw neither. So, he shrugged. “Astoria is with the temple healers for now, just to keep an eye on the baby. As for the name, I like it. Something about it reminds me of when the world had not turned dark. Ivy reminds me of that.”

“She was a happy child.” Snape agreed.

“What are you going to do, Severus?” He asked, gesturing to the bushy haired lump that curled up underneath the bed coverings no more than ten feet away from them. “You’ve seen what marrying a mad woman did to Kingsley. He looks older than dirt, and I can’t imagine the job is anymore stressful than worrying for Genesis. Granger is worse off than she was, Lysis told me. She’s losing sight of who she is. Everything she’s learned could be gone when this is all over.”

Severus nodded along, not angry as he wished to be but strangely at peace. “Has anyone ever told you what the difference is between the magic that flows through the veins of a witch and the magic of a wizard?”

“No.” Draco shook his head. “My mum always told me that was an old wives tale.”  
“Oh no, it is very real.” The older wizard chuckled. “And it is not what she told you it was, meant to keep pureblooded wives powerless under their husband’s thumb. Quite the opposite, really. Wizards are born with control of their magic. Anyone who has had more than a few children or worked in a nursery would tell you that the little boys have much fewer instances of accidental magic, though just as destructive. But the girls, little witches, have talent. They have abilities far outside of our reach. Seers, tempestarii and parseltongues are nearly always women, unless a wizard develops the talent after being bonded to a witch with the same gifts. And she does not have control of what lies within her until she is bonded to him. That puts the responsibility of what happens in our world on the wizards to make sure it never gets out of hand and we have failed them. We allow the curses to exist and the evil to spread, infecting everything in their path. We have failed Genesis and Hermione and Astoria. You won’t fail Ivy. You will keep a watchful eye at all times for what could harm her. I trust that and shall end you if you ever stray from your responsibilities as her betrothed and her lord. It is what I believe to be right, supported by the light itself, so I am not going to walk away from Miss Granger while she slips out of her own mind. It is not honorable and not right. I will do my duty, whatever that may be.”

Blond hair stuck with sweat to his forehead, despite the near constant chill in the dungeons, and his heart pounded in his chest. Tragic truths and powerful magic could both do that to a wizard at times, and Draco was not sure which he was under the influence of. It hardly mattered. “I am beginning to believe there is something wrong with Ivy.”

Dark haired and sallow skinned, the professor pulled a cigarette from the inner pocket of his robe and lit it with a lighter he kept on his table top. The end glowed as he pulled a deep drag into his lungs and let the sweet substances relax him. It was one of Kingsley’s and he thanked the wizard for his ability to find calm in their great storm. A sigh of relief broke the tension in the room and he nodded along thoughtfully. “Of course there is, Draco. You will understand it when you meet her mother.”

* * *

Hermione chose a piece of dry toast for breakfast, nibbling on the edges to calm her nervous stomach. She kept Ivy tucked under her arm, the dark haired girl cowering away from the boisterous boys at the Gryffindor table, with a protective hold. She felt for the motherless child, losing her own parents to a permanent Obliviate and a pair of one way tickets to Australia. 

It occurred to her only moments before her attention was pulled to other things that when the night fell, she would be a step parent herself to the very girl with which she felt a budding sisterhood.

Lord Snape had insisted they go to the dining hall for that meal, with her hair brushed and her weekend clothes on, and she was smart enough to guess why. That did not make it any less heart stopping when Headmistress McGonagall stood and clinked her knife against her glass to gain the attention of the room. Even the upper arm she grasped of a child that had grown up in the temple tightened with its own hesitancy and dread. This was not going to go very well. Hermione rubbed gently and tried not to clench her other hand that was bandaged and held in a splint.

“May I have your attention? Yes, Mr Hothward that includes you as well.” McGonagall cleared her throat but did not amplify her voice. The Scottish woman did not need any assistance to make herself heard, nor the threatening aura of a ready wand to gain the respect of the room. “I have an announcement. As you all know, Hogwarts makes every possible accommodation for the varying cultures and needs students and staff that call this castle home. In honor of this we host celebratory feasts, give time off for winter holidays and accept that some of you have religious obligations that may occasionally conflict with school work and class times. I expect that each of you will offer that same honor to your fellow students and the teachers that spend their lives ensuring that you may all go on to do great things. So it is with great pleasure and unwavering support, that I announce our own Professor Snape is to mark his bride this evening during the full moon.”

Severus stiffened and made sharp eye contact with his pet while the room erupted in protests. The Slytherins stood, several shaking fists and some reaching for their wands with no enemy to attack. Most of the Ravenclaws grumbled, save a few followers Snape knew of who looked down at where their hands rested in their laps. He was unsure if they were calling upon the light’s protection or just avoiding the gazes of their disapproving housemates. Hufflepuffs had more children than any other house who had been brought up in the temple by a wide margin, but there were still fewer than ten of them at any given time. And lastly, the Gryffindors all had turned their heads to stare accusingly at his lovely pet. Except, they were not looking directly at her. No, their eyes were on the Weasley girl on her unoccupied side who protested and denied her involvement to no avail. News that her much older brother had converted must have made its rounds.

“Silence! I will have respect in my school.” Minerva barked and they settled rather quickly, unsure what to do with their frustrations other than huff and cross their arms, then look to the podiums defiantly. “In observance of this occasion there shall be no quidditch practices, no homework, and no detentions held today or tomorrow. All mirrors will be draped in sheer dark fabrics, all linen colors will also be dampened and uniforms should be set aside in favor of finer robes and dresses. Meals will be taken out on the lawn, and quiet leisure activities throughout the grounds are encouraged. Professor Snape will now say a few words” She gestured to her podium, stepping back as he stood with a sour look plastered across his face.

Severus sighed, then sent the most apologetic nod he could muster towards his pet. She would hate this, but what choice did he have? The announcement was an essential step and **_this_** was their community. **_Those_** were her peers. Merlin, why must he be a teacher? This announcement in a temple or put in the Daily Prophet would have been much less grating on his nerves. 

“Thank you, Headmistress, for your kind words and explanation of what the students are expected to do during this time. Some of you may notice that the practices are similar to that of a Wizarding household in mourning. This is because the marking of a witch is the end of one life and the beginning of another. After this meal has been dismissed, all students who observe the light are to meet in my potions classroom with the headmistress and myself to discuss what obligations must be observed. Your parents have already been notified and given their consent. As you all have been told, I shall be marking a new wife and I would like to introduce you all to her. Miss Hermione Granger, would you please stand and take your place next to mine at the head table?”

Her eyes burned but tears could not stream down her face. She stood on shaky knees, and watched his hand gesture her to make her way forward, her feet floating instead of carrying her consciously. **_They hate me._ ** She held Ivy just as she had before, walking together in unison and avoiding the piercing gazes that they were inevitably receiving. Her efforts to shield the girl would only work until they reached the head table, but it still had to be done. Having been a third year before, Hermione knew that the disapproval of peers would wound any confidence she had developed. **_They hate her. You have to do something._ **

**Not those who matter anymore than gum on the bottom of your shoe. And do not tell me how to be a father.**

Concerned and furious faces burned the back of her head and she could not look at them when she sat down, instead choosing to stare at her plate that contained a full breakfast. **_I just wanted the toast._ **

**And I intend for you to live.**


	18. A Fruitless Attempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING... mentions of dub-con and underage sex

Draco Malfoy sat in his head boy's common room - which he would have shared with Hermione if she had not gone and gotten her brains scrambled - and smoked one of his godfather’s less desirable muggle cigarettes. There was a hint of nervousness in his stomach with every drag he took, haven taken a few without permission when sent to retrieve the girls, but the blond wizard easily shrugged it off. If he was being willingly given Severus Snape’s only daughter, then a few stolen from his kitchen drawer were not out of the question. Besides, it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Without it, Draco was unsure what he would be willing to do to get himself in that room with Ivy and Granger. Untrusting of what spells he would cast to ensure neither of them were a danger to the other. He would not let anyone be harmed under the only second chance he was being offered.

A knock at the door that was only a show of politeness announced the arrival of the minister, who ushered in his wives and daughters ahead of him before closing, locking and warding the door. Paranoia was beginning to seem more reasonable in a post war world than in the heat of battle. “Where are the witches preparing?”

He lifted a lazy finger and pointed towards the head girls bedroom door. “In there. Go ahead, they’ve been waiting to start.” There were a few murmured apologizes and Draco waved them off, resenting the need for everything around him to run like clockwork. They had hours to make Granger look decent, and the hair would be their only struggle. Nothing the bottles of Kleakeazy’s he had been sent to fetch couldn’t handle.

Kingsley took a spot on the sofa and rubbed his palms together towards the fire to warm his fingers. “It’s chilly down here.”

“Indeed.” _Oh bloody hell._ He was starting to sound like Severus.

Lord Shacklebolt chuckled at the thought. “Is Hermione well today?”

“Is she well?” Draco flicked ash onto the floor, knowing the house elves would sweep it up when they left. “Of course not. She had such a high fever last night I had to fetch ice on three separate occasions to keep her from roasting herself alive. Snape decided she needed to eat this morning even if it would make her last potions less effective. But is Granger well _enough_ to get through tonight? Likely.”

“I am both sorry and happy to hear that.” The wizard searched his own pockets for what remained of a cigar that he lit with a match instead of magic, which was curious to Malfoy, and the burnt out stick was tossed into the hearth. “Keeps the flavor.” He explained. “So you plan to mark Astoria next full moon I hear. The temple healers can keep her going until then, do not worry about that. They are quite talented and very good with pregnancy. My wives never went to St Mungos and Lysis gets the worst morning sickness. But what of Ivy? I am not implying you intend to mark her then as well. I am simply curious what kind of schedule you had worked out with Severus for courting and what her integration into the school would look like. I assume she was sorted into Slytherin.”

“Ravenclaw, actually. But I’ve decided to put her in Slytherin colors. It hardly matters when she won’t be sleeping in the dormitories.” The head boy and former death eater offered the insider knowledge to pacify his guest, took out the parchment that felt it weighed a stone in his pocket and handed it over. He would not meet the look he received. “Can you witness this? I intend to send it this evening but I need an official’s signature for the exception to be made.”

The minister scanned over the document, eyes widening and lips moving soundlessly as he went. The new lord could not intend to do what this stated… “You must be joking. This simply isn’t done. When the department receives this they will have hippogriffs right there on the carpet and it will fly right back up to my desk asking if it is a forgery. How am I expected to explain that?”

“Do I care?” Draco asked dismissively, adequately soothed. “I was told if she was to be marked by me she was mine to do with what I wished and _this_ is what I wish. Can you not respect that as a lord yourself?”

“ _Lord_ Malfoy-“

“Is. She. Not. Mine?” He seethed and clinched the fist that rested on the arm of his chair. “Because if she is, this is well within my rights as her future lord. And fuck the ministry busy bodies that will protest it. Fuck the whole bloody place.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed and nodded in agreement with his sentiments, though he would never utter the words. The Ministry of Magic had allowed Voldemort to rise to power out by remaining in denial while bodies stacked up around them. It was hardly a place that remained in his affections, but he wasn’t going to give up on the Wizarding world by walking away from his post. At the head of it all, he could do the most good. “Severus was never able to claim his daughter publicly until now and you’re taking that right out from under him? He isn’t going to keep Ivy from you, Draco. You don’t need to try to take the upper hand in this. Lord Snape is not your enemy, he is saving Astoria for you. Dare I say because he loves you like his own son.”

“That doesn’t change anything. It isn’t about Severus. This is about what I saw out there in the great hall today.” He dropped the butt onto the stone floors and twisted his toe over it. “He will have a son soon, I’m sure Granger will pop one out before too long, and someone has to be concerned for his _daughter_ . If they weren’t afraid of being seen, half the student body would have spit on her and the other half thrown food. That is as a Snape. The only way I can offer her the protection she needs is by making it known that I will be marking her and to do that she _has_ to be a Malfoy. They fear me.”

“More than Severus Snape? He killed Albus Dumbledore.” Kingsley offered.

Draco bobbed his head slowly, more frustrated than ever. “He will be busy trying to glue that shattered vase back together for some time and I cannot leave Ivy unprotected in this castle. I have been responsible for too many ruined lives already and I will never let them hurt her. People died here. Every corridor reeks of death.”

The Minister rolled up the parchment unsigned and placed it on the table between them, closer to his side than Dracos. It was a gesture indicating consideration, not rejection. That was all the young Malfoy could have hoped for. “Please, let me make sure that I understand because I have seen inside your head more than I have wished to and you are not this daft. You want to take spousal guardianship over her on the grounds of insanity and you do not think that that will make her life more dangerous here? Children are cruel.”

“They will be cruel either way.”

“It is not even true! Powerful? Yes. But that girl is not crazy.”

He flared his nostrils and was tempted to reach for his wand to hex the accusatory tone right out of Kingsley’s voice. “It doesn’t matter.”

The words ‘yes it does’ were on Lord Shackbolt’s tongue when he chose to swallow them. Though the boy’s manner of doing so was not right, he could see the desire to contain his responsibilities in neat little boxes, like dolls put on a shelf behind glass doors. The tempting thoughts of locking her away in the dungeons to be dressed in his colors and wearing his crest, simply to keep her to himself. It was not as if The Ministry would not take Draco’s word that the girl had lost her mind. His own witness signature would be the final touch to give it a reluctant seal of approval. The nail in Ivy’s coffin. “You don’t want to do this, Draco.”

“I do.” 

“No, please hear me. You don’t-” He swallowed hard, the taste of his lunch in the back of his throat at what this could mean. “You are not a dark wizard and you do not have a ruined soul. No one is keeping score but you. The world understands that you were a child who was given an impossible set of circumstances. And you can make every moment until that marking - when _she_ is grown and ready - as beautiful as she deserves for it to be. Just believe me when I say that magical or muggle, sane or out of her bloody mind, you do not want to be the man who does something to take that childhood away from her. Show her every day that she is worth the wait.”

With that the boy did grip his wand, more for reassurance than intention to use it. This was still his choice to make, wasn’t it? “Stop talking as if I am going to force her to consummate a marriage. All the ministry requires for this guardianship is that we are betrothed and that has been done. I just want her here, is that too much to bloody ask? After all that I have been forced into, can I not have this one damn thing?”

Kingsley placed his elbows on his knees and rubbed his strained eyes. Would this life ever get any easier? Or were they truly damned to go through another battle against the prejudices of the wizarding world with their alignments coming into the public eye? The light, as it were. “What of Ivy’s choice, Draco? If she were to change her mind before her marking, not only would the entire temple know as a given but the entire wizarding world. It would make the cover of the Daily Prophet for Merlin’s sake.”

“Then I will release her.” And he would swear an oath to it if asked to.

“It is not that simple. You are not listening to me, Draco. I stood where you are, on the precipice of a decision of this magnitude. I have made the mistake that you are about to make - putting your future wife into a position where she may not feel she can refuse you - and I cannot stress enough how long it will haunt you. I will be anyone's first hand account of how horrible it feels to be the one who turns a bold bright witch into someone timid and obedient that you don’t recognize. You will never know if she loves you because you are meant to be together, or she has resigned herself to not deserving more.” A single tear fell down his reddened cheeks while he fought the memories that came back to him. “We may have reconciled, and spoken to temple elders in years of counselling, but that does not mean I can ever forgive myself.”

Draco kept himself from watching the man who sounded like he had a frog lodged in his throat. His father, being the stoic man that he was, had not given him many opportunities to see a grown man cry. It was uncomfortable to say the very least. “What did you do? To Lysis, I mean.” It was clear to Draco which of the Shacklebolt wives Kingsley was referring to. It would have been clear to anyone who had been inside their home. The room stayed quiet for a while, neither man speaking to the other and both wringing their hands with anxiety. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No- No it's alright. I should be willing to confess after all this time, but the shame is still with me. It is why until very recently, Lysis could not convince me that I deserved a son. That I could raise him right.” The wizard pulled a handkerchief from his dark green robes and Malfoy kicked himself for letting his mind stray to his own church garments. It didn’t matter if he chose a suit, dark green robes or his godfather’s more traditional form of dress. The vanity of it all was much less important than it had been when he was only responsible for himself. Kingsley tried to clear his throat and blew his nose, but for the first time in his life Draco did not recoil from such an action. For once, it all seemed part of being human. “Lysis was one of nine children - she had three mothers - and their house was bursting at the seams. It was absolute chaos and she was always much better in calm situations. Happier when we went elsewhere to talk and get to know one another, understandably so. Unknown to many, I was courting Lysis before I found Genesis. She was meant to be my first wife - my only wife. I always thought the polygamy aspect was unneeded and no one is going to force it on a wizard. There is an honorable way to turn it down.

“But as it were, I ended up in Nigeria chasing down a lead for the aurors department and found Genesis. Her family had been so cruel with their taking advantage of what she could offer for black market potions ingredients, and I marked her in a temple there before I even returned to Britain. Only Severus attended, which was for the best. My sisters did not approve of what they thought was going back on my word. But Genesis required so much more care than I was prepared to provide. I had to work to support us and she was pregnant with Aurora before we knew it. I needed help. I was drowning. I decided to work it out with Lysis’s father and Hogwarts to let her spend days at the school and nights with us. I took the graveyard shift, which put me in the middle of all those damn angry death eaters that had lost the war only a handful of years before. They did things that The Ministry buried, mostly to muggles. I suppose they felt like the magical world wasn’t in danger so why disrupt the fragile peace? Going through that type of carnage can harden a man. Draco. Skew how he sees right and wrong, making light and darkness into indiscernible shades of grey. I know that you saw it happen, and I can never understand that, but I dealt with the aftermath. Collecting corpses that had been violated and mutilated beyond recognition and contacting their families was thankless work of course. No one is overjoyed to hear that their loved one is dead and had been cremated ‘by the city’ as we told them.

“Neither of us were sleeping more than three or four hours each night and the exhaustion was getting to both of us. Lord Snape helped as much as he could, but he and Tula - Lorna or whatever they want to call her - and Ivy on the way. She came with her own difficulties. Lysis’s school work was slipping, and though it was a discrete arrangement that only Albus and Severus knew of, it was still my responsibility to get on her about it. This was her future we were talking about and how could I let her waste it? She is so smart and talented. I saw her breaking curses at Gringotts or earning her mastery someday. We fought like dogs over her marks and could barely stand each other. It was my fault. I screamed and threw things, but Lysis honestly acted like she didn’t mind. I told her that there was a difference between being angry with the situation and being angry with her, but it was a lie of course. She made me furious. No matter how much help she was I was tired of looking at her. Then there was a baby to be cared for and I will give credit where it's due, Genesis is a wonderful mother. The children calmed her. But the bloody crying on top of the rest of it all… it is a wonder of the light that we made it through to the other side. At three months Aurora finally gave in and would sleep. We were no longer feeling like the living dead. It was still hard of course, but she was nearly a sixth year by then and the seventh goes by in a blink of an eye. There was an end coming near when we weren’t going to be stretched so paper thin.

“Then, I manged to fuck it all up.” He pulled a flask out and took a long swig of what Draco could smell from there was a strong calming drought. The man’s hands were shaking so terribly he was unsure how it didn’t all pour down the front of his clothes. “It was summer, we were under the same roof and damn it all - she was becoming a woman before my eyes. Lysis was so much less complicated than Genesis. I didn’t have to worry about her clawing her own face off for one, and we could actually hold a conversation. We could go places together without me fearing that she would disappear on me. I was actually finding myself relaxed if you can believe it. Hasn’t happened for a moment since then but it _did_ happen.” For a second he smirked, but it faded very quickly into a grimace. 

“I will spare you the details but in a moment of weakness, we slept together. She was barely sixteen. And instead of hating myself, I justified it. So of course it happened over and over again and I would find an excuse every single time. Tell myself that we were drinking or it was the light’s will or that she would turn seventeen in less than a year so what was months in proportion with three hundred years, but I had to have known on some level that it was wrong. I had to, right? I was having an affair with an underage girl no matter how you looked at it. I made the wrong choice for the girl that I had been entrusted with. _She_ trusted me. And to this day there are two things that I cannot be sure of and they will not get out of my head.”

The blond wizard finally turned towards him and met his eyes, looking into the lakes of regret that had plenty of time to moss over and take on the appearance of being like everyone else’s. “What things?” The flask was offered and Draco took a small sip, knowing it was much stronger than he was likely to handle if he went much further. It was sickly sweet, making his face pucker, but it put to rest the steady thrumming in his chest.

“Most obviously, I cannot know if Lysis married me because she wished to be with me or because she thought she would be seen as damaged goods by any other wizard. But the worst part is I am never going to be sure if she wanted to sleep with me or if she felt like going along with it was the only way to keep me from becoming a monster in her life once more. To keep me from screaming and carrying on. Perhaps even taking her against her will, which I never would have done but how was she to know that? That is why I am begging you Draco, please, do not put Ivy in that corner. Do not trap her into taking care of Astoria and the baby with that document. Respect her wishes and respect her right to take space to herself. Let her be a child while she is a child. Allow her to make her own choices on where she wants to spend her years. Work with Severus to ensure her safety while you have the help to do so. Then, if Ivy chooses you, you will know that it's because that is where she’s meant to be. That with you is where her heart calls her. I promise that it will be worth it. Can you learn from my mistakes so you don’t need to make your own?”

Draco sighed, and shook his head. “I’m not you. I would never do that to her.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t.” Kingsley picked up the parchment once more and examined it like he would a cursed relic or a piece of evidence in a crime, then his jaw set with determination. “Very well, you’ve only been betrothed for what, a day? Give three months. If you cannot work things out for Ivy’s safety by then, I will sign it without hesitation. But mark my words, Lord Malfoy, if you do this it will be the biggest regret of your life. It will put your dark mark to shame.”

After a lifetime of lies, no truer words had ever been spoken to Draco. Because, as it was, he would send that very same scroll to the ministry in much less than three months time. And strangely enough, everyone would tell him that he was doing the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys... I am really having a hard time continuing this story when it feels like no one is giving me any feedback. Your kudos are wonderfully appreciated, but I really could use some chapter by chapter responses. Ask questions, react, make comments, show emotion... some kind of reaction so I don't feel like I am just shouting into the void here. Please. Things are about to get even more complicated and I don't want that to mean people drop off because they don't feel heard but I can't hear you if you don't comment.


	19. Standing At The Gates Of Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved your comments after my last chapter notes. Such a flood of support kept me going to get this written out quickly and I urge you all to keep going. This next chapter will be VERY hard to write - and read - so I can use all the support possible while I work on it. Thank you all for being here.

Preparing the children of the light for their roles in the ceremony - primarily just being in attendance dressed properly - had been nowhere near as stressful as any potions class he had ever taught. Of the students he could perhaps, on occasion, stand to teach, most of them were raised in the temple. There was something about the calm they executed that made them less grating on his nerves. None of them felt the need to disrupt or behave like hormonal primates fighting over mates or territory. Their parents had raised them with a sense of subtlety, digestible examples of age appropriate romanticism, comfortability around human sexuality and with betrothals that allowed them to focus on their school works instead of the opposite sex. Not to be mistaken with belief they were superior due to their religious belief - they were still dunderheads - but they were overall more tolerable. The urge to hex them was less difficult to ignore.

It was back in his office that Severus waited the final hours until the marking ceremony. He was freshly bathed in a more masculine version of the scents Miss Granger seemed to prefer, for her comfort, and buttoned tightly into a new set of his favored robes. They were not the elaboral green worn for most marking and by cheerer Lords that Kingsley, Minerva and Albus portrait had tried to urge Snape to purchase, but to the potions master they served a different purpose than a display of celebration. His pet was used to seeing him in his black robes and frock coat. They were familiar and to him anyway, familiarity meant safety. Severus had reasoned - only with himself, offering the others no explanation other than he would do as he pleased and not a single other thing - that taking her by surprise by making such a change would border on cruel. The girl would be unnerved enough as it was.  
By the end of the evening, he would be married and have taken a virgin to bed. It was not his first - by any stretch of the imagination - but they had all meant nothing more to him than any other notch in the bedpost. It was not as if he was a brute. Snape had made sure they were left with memories that would not turn into resentment or regret and honored the significance of the occasion. It was simply that any romantic candlelight glow or whispered nothings had been means to an end. That was not the case with his plans for Miss Granger. Severus had several children of the light working on building the altar in his quarters, replacing his sheets with fine silk, ensuring his bathtub was scrubbed to a shine and stocking the cupboard with towels that would be soft on sensitive skin. For the first woman who had allowed him to love her, the night was to be perfect.

A rapping on the door startled him at first, but he quickly shook it off. This was an arrival that he had anticipated. Nothing caught him by surprise anymore. Severus Snape would not allow things to have such a power over him. “Potter.” Severus remained seating, waving his hand to the door open for his unwanted guest. “Do come in.”

Harry walked into the potion master's office and took a seat, eyes locking nervously with the cauldron that churned at his desk. It gurgled and bubbled, splattering the space around it only for a moment before a charm vanished the excess away. And yet he watched the surface for smoking or hissing that would slick away or burn through the finish, his prediction made from the acidic scent in the air. Potions had not been his best subject, but he had spent enough time in the same room as Neville Longbottom to be weary of volatile mixtures.

“Her dose of fertility potion for tonight. Brewed stronger than most to handle the task at hand.” Snape ran his wand over the solution and it gave off a puff of baby pink smoke. “It should be ready in the next several hours. Why are you here, Mister Potter?”

“I…” He pulled at the roots of his hair, pale and still staring with disbelief at the cauldron. 

Severus huffed, watching the thoughts that spiraled through his mind which he tried to shove away with the weakness occlumency that he had ever had the displeasure of breaking through. Potter had tried to - or perhaps tried  _ not  _ to - picture the sallow skinned wizard and bushy haired know-it-all  _ utilizing  _ the potion that Snape had brewed. He smirked, feeling not only like a lord but a god. All of the wizarding world would know by the next morning that Severus Snape had found what he wanted in the world and met no resistance in taking it. It was only the fact that Harry Potter was imaging  _ his  _ witch naked that brought him irritation. “If you could refrain from undressing my bride that would be greatly appreaited. Now tell me what you want or get out of my sight.”

“I don’t know. I want to be there in support of Hermione - whatever it is she’s doing - because she’s been there for me no matter what I was getting myself into. I don’t understand what she’s decided to get herself mixed up in or what to think about it but she is my best friend. I’m not going to abandon her if she wants me involved in this stage of her life. But I can’t  _ not _ know what this all means. I can’t be in favor of something that is going to hurt her.”

Severus pursed his lips and settled in on his side of the desk. “Very well then. What do you want to know?”

“Why?”

“You will have to be more specific, Potter.”

He rubbed his scar, working through his painfully racing thoughts. “Why is she marrying you?”

“She is not marrying me. Not exactly.” The older wizard settled back in his chair. “She is being marked by me. It is similar to a marriage but cannot be dissolved in that way. Miss Granger will be bound to me in this life and in the next. Our magic will be one and our magic bloodlines will be inseparable. The children from our union will be of our combined abilities. My power and her talents. And there will be many children.” He took pleasure in the images of tiny versions of himself circling Hermione’s feet that popped into the boy’s head. Potter was easier to play than a game of gobstones.

“What does she get out of this?” 

Snape smirked. “Absolution. I can then perform the rituals required to cleanse her soul of dark magic. If she were to wear her protective garments, sit for her ceremonies, give children to the light and live a life of value, there is no reason Hermione could not live three hundred years as opposed to a century and a half. And those three hundred years will be in the service of the light. From someone who has been in service to both the light and the dark magical forces, this is the only life worth living should one have the choice to make.”

“Do you love her?” Harry nearly radiated with hatred of the possibility that this was an affair that had begun out of mutual attraction. If Hermione could stand to touch the greasy git, he would see her as the most deserving Gryffindor that had ever been. But more than that, he hated the idea that she would accept a life unloved.

The potion master stiffened. At least they could agree on something. “Kingsley Shacklebolt does not love his second wife and they get along amicably. It can be done.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“All of life is about choices, Mister Potter. Miss Granger has made hers, and you will make yours deciding whether or not you can handle witnessing the inevitable future that is to come. Mister Weasley made his when he decided to lay his hands on any witch, least of all _ mine _ . He should consider himself fortunate to still be breathing.”  _ Be very careful what you say next, Mr Potter. _

“Dammit, just say it! Say that you don’t love her so you can realize that this is a horrendous idea before you trap her for what you have just told me is  _ eternity _ .” Snape did not reach for his wand when the wizard across from him did. If he so much as twitched his wrist to raise it, Severus could hex him into oblivion. “You’ve always hated and ridiculed Hermione. Just admit this is wrong for her. Tell me to my face that you only want her because she’s vulnerable and doesn’t know what she’s doing. Say it!”

“Insufferable dunderheaded- Very well. you must know, I do not just love the little swot, I adore her. There is little more endearing than someone who needs you.” The Potter boy paled and Severus smirked once more. Could the boy somehow maintain his coloring less than his composure? It was a puzzling but amusing weakness. “Do not ask questions if you do not want to know their answers and never again come into my office and demand anything of me. I may rescind your invitation to see my pet at any time for any reason so I suggest you speak very carefully from this point forward.” His warning did not matter, for he had left the young wizard speechless. A change of the subject would serve them both well. “Have you made a decision regarding Theodore Lupin?”

“A decision about Teddy? I don’t know what you mean, Professor. Ginny and I will be adopting him legally when she turns seventeen but Molly is lending me a hand for now and-“

Snape held up a hand, cringing and huffing irritated breaths. “I do not care about that, Potter. What I was referring to was dedicating the boy to the light. Surely Miss Granger told you the benefits to an orphan joining our ranks.”

“No, professor, she didn’t get the chance.” The wizard sitting before him did not look at his feet like Severus anticipated, and did not show enough shame for his taste.

“Ah” He pushed down the anger that rose within him. It was the boy Weasley he took issue with in this particular instance. Having Harry there was something that he could give his bride as a wedding gift that would last a lifetime and to do so, he could play nice. “To put it all to rest and not drag this conversation on too long, if the boy were to be raised in the Light Of Redemption I  _ should _ be able to pull Remus and Nymphadora back from  _ the other side of the veil  _ or whatever you choose to call it, sometime in the vicinity of his thirteenth birthday. You have time to decide but the longer he is dedicated for the more likely the spell is to work.”

“Are you-“ Harry stuttered, then cleared his throat. “I’ll have to consider it, Professor.” The young wizard let out a breath he had been holding to steady himself. “What would I need to  _ do  _ if I were to be her…”

“Hand tamer is the role.” Severus accioed a piece of parchment and a quick quotes quill, and then sent it to work. The boy would need notes to refer to if there were only hours left. “A hand tamer is an important role in the life of a witch. He gives her away, so to speak, to her lord. Then he assists the witch in remaining still and sure of her decisions during the marking. After that his job is to assist in the  _ sensitive  _ tasks of her life. Collect the bed linens after the consummation and burn them. Care for her if she becomes ill and I, her lord, need to leave her bedside. Attend the births of her children and assist in their delivery as well as their naming. Permission to visit without a chaperone. Invitations to all her ceremonial experiences in the temple when most non-members cannot even  _ see  _ the building. Accompany her on outings. If you did not already plan to adopt your godson and your wife was unable to give you an heir, you would even be able to request she carry a child for you. Though that would be up to her.”  _ And she would never deny him.  _ Snape ejected the thought from his head, relieved that was not the case, while Harry’s cheeks turned a humorous shade of red. “More than anything it means she wishes you to be a part of her life for years to come. It is a great honor that should not be refused.”

“Have you done it?” 

“Yes, twice. For both of the Minister's wives.”

Though he had questions about how that could be true, they were nowhere near as urgent as his concerns for Hermione’s quite near future. “Marking her. What does that mean? Is it like the dark mark you took?”

“No,” Severus absentmindedly rubbed the serpent and skull that slithered about his forearm and would for the rest of his life. “It is my signature carved into her skin. I will use my wand and it will scar very clearly when it is properly healed. It is enchanted to connect the wizard and his witch.”

Harry cringed at the thought of more words mutilating Hermione’s skin. He remembered that Ginny was given a box of her clothes when she was packing to go back to school, and it was every item that lacked long sleeves necessary to cover her  _ Mudblood  _ scar. She had worn her winter wardrobe all summer, insisting she wasn’t burning up in the hot sun. “Will it hurt?”

The professor nodded solemnly, having dug into the boy’s mind every second since he showed his face at the office door. “It will be agonizing, Mr Potter. I have heard some muggleborns describe it like a brand that is given to non magical livestock, but I am unfamiliar with the practice. My family was never amongst the agriculture types. But I assure you it is no more painful and ends much faster than the death that she will experience if she allows the dark magic that Lestrange cursed her with to remain in her body. This is her only chance to go on with her life and accomplish the things she has wanted since she discovered she was a witch at eleven years old. It is all that the world has to offer her now.”

* * *

His mind made up, Harry found Ginny out in the courtyard and together they headed towards head boy and girl’s quarters. Kingsley Shacklebolt let them in, just as he and half a dozen witches were on their way out. It took a sharp jab to the ribs from his soon-to-be fiancee to remind him not to stare. The only person left in the large common area was Draco Malfoy who didn’t pay either of them much attention. He simply gestured vaguely towards a door on their left and went back to a parchment he was reading quite intently. It had never occured to Harry that Draco may actually have been that invested in his studies.

“Hermione, are you decent?” Ginny called through the cracked door, her hand hovering on the knob. “Harry and I are here.”

“Oh my gosh, you can’t be serious!” The familiar voice nearly squealed with delight then she yanked open the door and wrapped her arms around each of them then gestured for them to come in. “Please, the both of you. I can’t believe you’re here.”

Harry surveyed the room, which was no different than a smaller version of their standard dormitory, before landing on what Hermione was wearing. The fabrics that made up her white robe were lacey and translucent, certainly not intended to be worn after a bath, and showed more of her anatomy than he had intended to see. Quickly, he averted his gaze to the floor, noticing a skin toned brace on her wrist. “You could have taken a moment to get dressed first, ya know. We could have waited outside. Draco didn’t threaten to hex us or anything.”

Again, Ginny’s elbow met his ribcage and Harry wondered if he would develop tougher skin there as the years went by. “That’s her wedding gown, Harry.”

Hermione smiled shyly in response. “When I’m going to be nude in front of nearly everyone I know in less than an hour it tosses modesty out the window, don’t you think?”

“I guess so.”

Hermione stretched her neck a bit around them and towards the cracked door, then disappointment crossed her face. “Ronald isn’t coming, is he?”

Her friend pushed a lock of hair that had fallen from Hermione’s braided hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek lovingly, then pulled her into an embrace. Her hand rubbed her back, and Harry realized quickly it was a habit she had developed from soothing Teddy. He really should bring him to visit more often. “You know my brother, he’s hard headed. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to be here but I think he wanted more for you. Ron told Harry that he was the only one-”

“Ginny!” Harry scolded. There was no reason she had to hear that.  
“What did he say?” Hermione pulled away. “What did he tell you, Harry?”

He shook his head. “It’s not important.”

“It is to me.” The thinly robed witch crossed her arms, looking meeker than she did determined. “Don’t keep things from me or treat me with kid gloves, please. Just say it.”

“Alright, fine.” Harry took off his glasses and sat on the bed rubbing the tension from his face then took a few deep breaths. Or was he sighing? “Look, Mione, he was upset when I told him that I was going to come. Things were said in the heat of the moment that I didn’t think you needed on your mind today. It’s just that Ron was mad I was still allowed to be in the ceremony. He was at Bill and Fleurs and knew more about it than I did and he said-” His voice dropped off, temporarily losing the nerve to repeat something so hurtful until the insistent eyes of his girlfriend urged him onward. “Ronald told me that I shouldn’t be your… person… for this because he was the only one of us that knew what it meant to give you away.”

“My brother is an idiot.” Her friend reassured her, holding her hand and wiping her tears away. “And today is not about him. Is this what  _ you  _ want to do, Hermione? If it isn’t we can run away right now. We’ve got the wizard that killed Voldemort to hex anyone who stands in our way. Just tell me.”

First she shook her head, and then nodded, finally landing on looking desperately at Harry. “I want this. I’m ready.”

“Okay.” He said, not sure what else he had to offer.

There was a light tapping on the door and Malfoy pushed it open instead of calling through. He nodded solemnly and gave the woman in white a strained smile that was full of more apology than he had offered her for the six years they attended school together. “It’s time to go now.” He held the door in a gentlemanly fashion that urged the girl’s to leave and Harry followed after, only to be stopped by Draco’s hand that blocked him by the middle of his chest. Before he could lash out - demanding to know what his problem was - he noticed the ruffle of fabric in his longtime foe’s grasp that was embroidered along one corner with an elegant DLM. “Take it, Potter. Just in case. For Hermione, I mean.”

The pale hand pulled away and it dropped into his own grasp, causing Harry to cringe at the thought of why it would be necessary and stare at the menacing handkerchief. His mind raced with thoughts of why tears would be shed, the pain that would cause them and the fact that he would enable it all to occur. Harry imagined holding her to the ground under his shoes - the very ones that Snape had told him he should keep on for a good grip - while she writhed in pain that signed her life away to a man that had a larger death toll than he could stand to imagine. The pit of his churned and urged him to flee. “I- I have to go. I can’t do this.” Draco grabbed onto Harry's shoulder without digging his fingers in and only the soft biting of Malfoy’s lip kept him from being hexed across the room. 

“Don’t make her go through this alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew... it's been a long time coming to this point in only a short number of days. The next chapter will be the long awaited ceremony
> 
> I have a vision and a plan for how this will happen, but I am VERY curious to see based on what I have provided what readers think will go down. So please, ask any questions, react to what you've read and leave your predictions below. I will see you at the marking ;)


	20. Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, to the ceremony twenty chapters in the making. It was a pleasure getting here with you and I am very excited with what is to come. Enjoy!

_Blood curdling screams pierced his eardrums moments before the taste and scent of burning flesh assaulted his mouth and nose. The only safe place to look was past the witch’s expression of pain to the stark white skin on her lower back. It had been marred with an elegant curling script that brought forth the phrase in his mind 'delusions of grandeur’. Severus kept as much weight as he could off his toes, begging the light that he would not feel the crunch of bone under his boots. How long could Kingsley make this last? He had said his bloody demands, for Merlin’s sake, and she had still presented herself to take them on. Why did he feel the need to draw this out? The warm eyed wizard had never given Snape the impression that he was a sadist…_

Severus stood at his own fireplace, his wand at the ready and gaze locked on the door. Unlike the secret kept markings he had taken part in as a handtamer, the one that would make him a true lord was humming with the anticipation and excitement of several dozen witches and wizards. The entire Shacklebolt family stood off to one side, and on this rare occasion Kingsley was able to stand with them to claim his wives and children as his own. Everyone in the room knew of his marriage even if they could not speak of it. The children of the light that attended Hogwarts had outdone themselves with the job they had done lighting candles, scrubbing the hearth, putting out food - as house elf made cuisine could not be consumed at such an event - and were only giving him occasional nervous glances. When they did, obviously looking at the work they had completed before assessing his approval, Snape would give one short nod to indicate a job well done.

 _Kingsley stood across from him with a wand in hand, looking at his friend instead of his new bride. It was the way it should be, the ultimate act of submission to her Lord’s authority being that his commands be said aloud. “Lysis, my kind dove, I ask of you the surrender of body, mind and soul. You shall obey me in all things, never speak to me less than the truth and bring forth as many of my children as is the light’s will. With this mark, I tie you to me in all ways one may be tied to another, I please you in all ways one may give another pleasure and I love you in all ways one may love another. Do you speak for her, Lord Snape?”_ _  
__“I do.”_

_Lord Shacklebolt swallowed hard. “And does she accept my terms?”_

_Severus knew what he was to say next. The phrase had been chosen by Lysis, the only vow she would contribute to the marking which sealed her to one wizard for the rest of her life, and_ **_he_ ** _was the one who was to speak it. In many ways it felt unfair but as he had been told originally by Albus Dumbledore, the light was to be worshipped and not questioned._

_He locked black eyes with the wizard that stood waiting and gave a nod. “From here into eternity, yes.”_

_A sharp intake of breath resulted in a much quieter hiss than he had anticipated, and the air smelled of pennies. Why Kingsley had chosen this_ _method was not lost on Severus, and he noted the wizard made much faster strokes than he had with his bride before. Whether this could be explained away by the blood rising from each stroke that was making it harder to keep sight of his skin canvas or if the wizard had learned his lesson from the last marking could not be known. This time, Snape did have to use more of his weight to hold the witch below his feet in place, and the giving way of broken bones reverberated through his flesh. He was soon able to step off of her and trade places with her Lord. Kingsley hushed his bride through her tears, pushing locks of hair out of her tear soaked face and paling at her cries for relief. Severus was mercifully about to distract himself with the work of stopping her bleeding and stitching as inconspicuously as he could._ ** _It would be a shame to warp such marvelous work._** _Snape thought with a roll of his eyes._

_The letters under his quickly working hands were haphazardly pieced together with jagged strokes as if an actual knife had been used instead of the wizard’s wand. How had he not practiced this somehow when he had known for years the skill would be required? And for the wisdom of the light, how could Kingsley Shacklebolt of all people have not resisted pleasures of the flesh with an underage girl? He was luckier than he was dunderheaded that he did not get the girl pregnant while she was still finishing her schooling, somehow managing to avoid the consequences of his actions without contraceptive potions until she was nineteen. At least it had finally been handled. This ridiculous chapter could finally be closed..._

It was the sudden quieting of the buzzing room that alerted him to the presence of his godson, who escorted Ginerva Weasley to a couch he did not recognize on the side of the room, and then took his own place beside Severus as witness for the light. Muggles would have called him a best man. All Draco would have to do to complete that duty was alert the temple by sending an owl before sunrise, and Severus felt confident he could handle that. Getting Potter to take the same responsibility for his duties as handtamer would likely require much more _encouragement_. He had never imagined himself having to push Miss Granger and the boy-who-lived-to-be-a-pain-in-his-arse to spend time together, but he had to do so all the same. At least she had chosen someone she could trust to stand in her corner and Potter had accepted, instead of forcing Draco to take his place. Facing an unknown future alone was terrifying.

When the door of his quarters opened again, Snape was sure he knew what would happen next. The room would gasp, admiring the beauty that an ugly man such as himself had been fortunate enough to obtain, and several witch’s hands would reach out to brush their fingers over her tied lace robes. It was tradition - a silent prayer that her life would contain more pleasure than it did pain - and many of the wizards would send whispered spells in her direction. 

For luck.

For wealth.

For strength.

And so she would have them all. 

The wooden door creaked open, the delay in their arrival likely explained by the winding halls that must be followed to reach his quarters, and Severus Snape found himself speechless. Sure, he was not _expected_ to speak at that very moment, but if he had needed to do so it would not be an option.

Miss Granger was the light itself embodied into the flesh. 

If Severus had held any doubts of the temple’s teaching up until then, they were washed away. The light was certainly a woman.

The robes Genesis had sewn were absolutely stunning. They did not adorn them with ruffles, gemstones, corset lacing, glitter or petticoat-like lining that Snape had seen many others wear in his days, and that had been the right decision. Hermione’s slight frame was covered from collarbone to the tops of her feet in white lace that clung tight at her wrists. Her face glowed, not adorned with make up or oils, but by a light layer of nervous perspiration that Severus wanted nothing more to lean forward and taste by dragging his tongue across her skin. The spells were said, and fingers brushed over fabric, but he did not hear their well wishes to know what she had been given. It hardly mattered, for by the light that redeemed his sullied soul _he_ had been given _her_. And she was all he would ever need.

Finally face to face, he admired the braid that Ivy had twisted her bushy locks into and rolled into a bun at the top of her head. A ribbon tied at the back to hold it in place and the tails of that bow laid on her bare shoulders when Potter helped her out of the robe and onto the ground before him. She faced away from him, looking to her tamer, and placed one of her hands on the stone floors without bending into a deep child’s pose Kingsley’s wives had. With the other, her elegant fingers lifted the last bits of material away from her flesh, while she craned her neck forward until her chin touched her chest.

All moisture that he had managed to bring to his mouth was gone and he reached forward to trail his fingers across the alabaster skin. It was not where he had imagined marking - quite honestly Severus did not believe it had ever been done - but the wizard had not known as many witches as he had and taken as much pleasure as he had from life without learning how to spot an invitation. This one may as well have been posted in the great hall for all eyes to see. They _would_ all see as chances to exercise discretion were all but destroyed by the location she indicated. But the girl who knelt before him, who humbled herself at his feet with the knowledge he would inflict agony upon her person while her back was turned, did not do things without absolute certainty. If _this_ was what she offered to him, then it was what she wished. For the love of all that was good in the world, he did as well.

“Lower your hand, Miss Granger.” Her master ordered as kindly as he could muster, and she dropped the ribbons where they had been pushed over her shoulder. Her hands laid out on the floor in front of her and Harry Potter stepped forward upon them with an uncomfortable cringe that he did not bother hiding and a whispered apology to the girl. Snape paid it no mind, his eyes still on where his finger tips trailed across her skin. _So beautiful. So perfect. And absolutely mine._

From his place off to the side of the room, Lord Shacklebolt cleared his throat. Projected towards Severus was the indication that his actions were far too intimate for such a time. He was to get on with it.  
And that he would. “Hermione, my pet, I ask for the surrender of your body, mind and soul. You shall present yourself at my mercy, delight me with your wit and suffer through me your failures. Your womb shall bear me many children, your flesh shall be the vessel of my pleasure and your tears be shed at my hand. With this mark, I bind you to me in all ways one may be bound, I claim you in all ways one may be claimed and I love you in all ways one may love another.” Snape noticed the slight shaking of the girl and pushed down the guilt that threatened to consume him. It was the only way she would survive. There had to be no room for her to fall away from the path and back into the darkness that wished her demise. Snape looked to Potter, who strained with clenched teeth, and picked through the front of his mind. The boy hated what he was doing, and more than that hated Severus, but it was of no consequence. If he were to go, Draco would readily stand in his place. “Do you speak on behalf of Miss Granger, Mister Potter?”

The furious wizard swallowed, looked down to Hermione’s face once more, and nodded. “I do.”

Snape resisted the urge to sneer, not wanting to be the man he once was. It was not a time for revenge or spite. He had already won. The little witch was as good at his. “And does Hermione accept her fate at my hand?”

Harry pursed his lips tightly, clearing losing concentration on his efforts to be light footed, and tightened his grip on the wand in his hand. Severus watched visions of his well deserved demise cross the man’s mind and the seconds turned to minutes in a silent room. Time was running out, stalling not tolerated in such a way, when the boy spoke next. It was barely more than a whisper, but it was enough. It was enough to send Severus both spiraling into his own pain and grant permission for the ceremony to be completed.

The boy sighed one last time and his grimace faded away as quickly as the words left him before his face when lax with defeat. “Always.”

Always.

Lily Evans.

His Lily.

Though he had known what the boy had seen in the pensive, Snape had believed that Potter would have the decency to never speak of it, least of all contorting the vows of Miss Granger into a tool for revenge. When he shook off his frustration, Severus could clear the overwhelming mist from his thoughts. His assumptions had proven to be correct, as the wizard said it with such disdain for the word Miss Granger had chosen. She could not have known it’s meaning, and it had not been chosen for her. It mattered not how angry Harry Potter was or that Severus would have to tolerate his presence for the rest of his natural life, as they both could agree on one thing. One absolute unspoken truth that placed them on the same side.

This day was not about Lily Evans.

It was about Hermione Granger.

His Hermione.

_Always._

“Forever and always.” The sallow skinned wizard repeated back before raising his wand to the smooth flesh he had been presented with. With a flourish of his wand, taking no longer than he did when renewing his employment contracts, his name burned into the skin of his beloved. He watched as his own movements left destruction in their wake, carving through thick layers of skin for a mark that would never fade away. It was not until his hand laid slack at his side, his wand no longer needed, did he realize he had been holding his breath and locking his jaw in waiting.

 _Waiting for what?_ He racked his brain to no avail. Snape had forgotten something. He had marked Hermione Granger and _forgotten_ a key part of the ceremony. How could he have been so dunderheaded? It would not take if he could not remember what was supposed to happen next. So many eyes locked on on him, all filled with alarm, the potions master nearly commanded the room to be quiet so he could think. Except he had no reason to command them to stop talking.

The room was silent.

Just as his bride had remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... we all know what's next ;) The next chapter will be far more smutty than anything else in the piece up to this point. Are we excited? Was the marking what you expected? What do you think Severus is going to do with this realization? Tell me all about it.


	21. It Will Be Our Little Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I am sorry I lied. Once I started writing I realized that THIS chapter had to happen before anything with Severus and Hermione resumed. 
> 
> Second, something that will happen in this chapter may disturb some readers and make them very uncomfortable. What Draco does towards the beginning is horrible, made even worse in that he doesn’t suffer any immediate consequence, and his actions may trigger some readers. Please read with discretion.

Draco held the door to his quarters open for Ivy to pass through, not missing the way her breaths grew rapid and shallow to pair with the audible racing of her heart. He closed the large wooden blockade and leaned his forehead against its ornate carvings while he took a few deep inhales and slow exhales to calm himself before he moved to address her. What could he say? How could he make any move that would not increase her fear of him? She had to have seen the monster that lived within. Kingsley had been wrong in defending him, too forgiving of his crimes. Unforgivable curses had been cast through his wand and spoken from his lips. He had killed. He had tortured. He had manipulated. There was nothing left unsullied within him, and somehow he was expected to turn around and tell his Ivy Lane that she had no reason to be afraid.

_Can I tell such a lie?_ Malfoy asked himself, knowing that her dark cavernous gaze was locked onto the back of his head. _No._ He decided with a huff. But he could take her fear away. Yes, that was something that he could certainly do. It would be a kindness.

“Get changed into your garments for bed, Ivy Lane. Your things are already in the dresser.” He said as he turned towards the young witch, who he knew had been told to obey him while in his care. Without hesitation, she turned towards the head girl's room and Draco called out only seconds before she closed the door an afterthought. “And put on the bathrobe that’s on your bed before you come out. Socks too. It gets chilly at night.” He explained. There was no sense in her being cold on top of being nervous.

Draco moved towards his small kitchenette, pulled down two stemmed glasses and found the vials he had borrowed from Snape’s storeroom. When the missing potions were noticed, it would be blamed on Neville Longbottom who had been given the task of doing inventory during detention. There was no reason to believe that Malfoy had taken them, and no witnesses to accuse him. With shaking hands, he uncapped the first vial which was translucent and purple. A small amount of it would go a long way, and he utilized the dropper from his own potions kit to make a precise measurement. _Three drops dreamless sleep._ He recited to himself, then pulled the cork from a cloudier blue potion that he poured half of into the same glass. They had all learned in fourth year to brew a calming draught, but he had not had the time to do so. Days had passed too quickly since Ivy arrived to find a moment for personal potions work. For now, this would have to do.

On top of the mixture, which did not react in any way that he could observe, Draco added a heavy pour of the darkest red wine that he had been able to confiscate from Slytherin house. It blended well, hiding the potions within it in both appearance and scent and he let out a sigh of relief. She would never know. The blond wizard poured himself a glass as well and took them both to the table in front of his couch, paying close attention as to not mix up the two. For absolute certainty, his drink moved back into his hand and he downed half of it in two large gulps. _Thank Merlin…_

“Draco, is that for me?” Ivy made her presence known and carefully closed the bedroom door behind her until it latched firmly. There was too little air circulation in the dungeons for there to be a draft to reopen it, but Draco reasoned Ivy had no way of knowing that. She was just being polite. 

He forced a smile and nodded. “Yes it is. Come sit with me, Ivy Lane.”

She moved to the opposite end of the couch, drowning in the too large robe he had put in her room. It was Astoria’s - who was a full head taller and several years older - but he had not found time to send for something by post. Ivy picked up the glass, swishing it around gently as she had seen adults do, and stared at the liquid before speaking up. “I’ve never had wine before. My father wrote to me once when I was traveling with friends and he said that I wasn’t allowed.”

“He told me the same thing a time or two. Good thing he isn’t here to scold us, isn’t it?” Draco took his own sip to emphasize, but the witch did not budge. An exasperated sigh left his chest, but he turned to the girl and lifted his glass in a toast. “Don’t worry about me telling your father. This will be our little secret. Have you ever had a secret before? A real one? Not something your friends actually wanted everyone to know.”

As he knew she would, Ivy shook her head. Of course she hadn’t. Unlike him, she was raised as a creature of the light that did not withhold from her elders. This did not stop a shy smile from spreading across her face and a flush of pink from rising to her pale skin. “No, but I think I would like to try one. A secret.”

“To trying new things,” Draco said, adding an extra flourish to his pronouncement with a wave of his free hand while they clinked glasses. He sipped his own drink only to taste, pretending to gulp much longer than he did, because he knew she would follow his example. As nervous as she was and as misplaced as it may have been, Ivy trusted him.

Her nose wrinkled when she had downed nearly half of her own heavily poured glass through oversipping, and therefore half of the potions he had added to it, and quickly her mouth was overtaken with a wide yawn. Soon she would grow from giggly, to loose lipped, lazily lethargic and then simply drift off to sleep. “It’s good.” Ivy smirked with the awkwardness of youth and her stiff spine relaxed against the back of the sofa. What little Draco could see of her hands peeking out from the oversized sleeves lost their tension, and he felt instant relief. 

“Hermione looked lovely, didn’t she? My father seemed pleased.”

Malfoy noticed a bit of admiration for the older witch in her tone and he nodded in agreement. “Yeah. You did a good job. When Astoria returns for her marking, you should be her bathmaid too. The two of you can practice doing her hair ahead of time. It’s easier to manage than Granger’s, don’t worry about that. Less likely to give you a rope burn while braiding.” Draco loved running his fingers through Astoria’s strawberry locks when they laid in bed together, and he was instantly reminded of the place he would much rather be. It was easier with her - okay, it was easier with Granger even - than with the familiar face that sat next to him. He knew nothing of being her age that would be of much use to the flow of conversation or their entertainment. Truthfully, he half expected her to propose a poorly mimicked tea party within the week.

Ivy looked down at her glass and took another sip that caused her lips to pucker, which she shook off quickly. “I bet Astoria is even prettier than Hermione. Far prettier than me for sure. You’re very lucky.”

The wizard frowned before reminding himself of the insecure nature that girls in his own house showed at thirteen. On more than one occasion he had needed to send Astoria into the bathroom to comfort one that was crying over a zit or bad haircut. But for Ivy to worry made no sense. She was a Veela. If meeting Fleur Delacour had taught him anything, it was that even part Veelas were stunning and certainly were well aware that that was the case. Had the humility that Snape taught her really rooted itself deeper than her very nature? While impossible sounding, Draco had seen more impossible things in his life come to fruition. This doubt of hers was something he could rectify, feeling wrong that she believed such a damning falsehood. 

“You are the most beautiful witch I’ve ever seen, Ivy Lane.”

This time, her cheeks were closer to scarlet as she drank to avoid looking him in the eyes. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.” Draco rolled the stem of his glass between his thumb and fingers, spinning it to swish the wine around for his amusement, and pretended not to watch her from the corner of his eye while she finished off the glass.

Could the minutes have passed any slower if they tried? Was time itself out to get him? Malfoy held back a groan and tried not to look at the large wooden clock on his mantle. If this was somehow his punishment for a lifetime of mistakes, then the Light was surely the least just force in the universe. It needn't take his actions out on her, dragging out the inevitability of her intelligent mind racing through horrible scenarios that Draco could unfortunately imagine. Based on her words when they spoke of their betrothal, she feared what he could want from her. And Draco could not shake the fear from his core that the scenarios only worsened from there. More than all of it, he refused to be the monster that lived under her bed and slithered it’s way into her bad dreams.

“I didn’t have any, just so you know.” The girl set down her glass and picked up a pillow that she hugged to her chest and wrested her chin on. Her legs were tucked under and she bounced her knees lazily.

Draco cocked his head. “Any what?”

“Friends.” She answered quietly, embarrassment evident in her tone. “The kids at school said I was odd. None of them wanted to be my friends. And-“ She stopped as quickly as she began.

He leaned forward, making himself lower than her. “Tell me, Ivy Lane. And what?”

The raven haired girl would have cried if she had been able, the inability an unwanted side effect of the concoction he had put in her drink. “-And you didn’t write to me. You said- no you _promised_ you would send me a letter as soon as I left so it would be there when I got to France and you _never_ sent even one stupid letter. That’s all I wanted. Just one.”

A lump that could not be dislodged formed in Draco’s throat and he could not quell the guilt that rose within him. In so many ways he had already failed her, and excuses that he had no longer been allowed to remember who she was could never take away the hurt of his silence. But what was an apology in the face of that pain? Four years alone with no one to talk to. It was no longer a wonder Ivy had grown cold, but a logical end. A touch of sick twisted destiny to make a tender hearted child turn to stone.

With a rush of energy, emboldened by the light buzz from the drinks he had consumed at the marking celebration, Draco quickly went to his rooms and opened his trunk. Rummaging down to the very bottom - past overly chewed quills, crumpled parchments and female quidditch magazines - he found what he had envisioned. It was a leather bound journal his mother had bought him for no discernible reason and only the first few pages had been marked. None of it was important - they looked to be old charms notes - so he tore out the scribblings and brought it back to the common area. Malfoy placed it next to the girl with his hand spread over its cover then crouched down on the floor and lowered his voice, trying to speak with the utmost sincerity. Draco had humbled himself before the dark lord out of fear and schmoozed his way through school when his grades were less than the perfect marks Lucius had expected. Being _below_ was not entirely unusual but this was different in ways he could not deny. For one, he wanted the best for the witch he spoke to. Whatever that best may cost him.

“I am sorry that I never wrote to you, Ivy Lane. It was very, very wrong of me to go back on my word. I realize that I have hurt you and cannot take that back, but I would like to show you I can do better if you’ll let me. May I?” 

Her eyebrows scrunched and eyes narrowed, the dramatics of girlhood more endearing to him than they were forgein, but she nodded in stubborn agreement.

“Thank you.” Draco picked the book up and waited for her to take it from him. “In this book, I will write you letters and you can write them back to me. When one of us is done writing we can leave it right here on the sofa for the other to find. I’ll even charm it tomorrow so only you and I can read what it says. Consider it our special journal. You can write me anything in this book and no matter what it is you won’t get in any trouble. I will never tell anyone and if you ever need help I will protect you from anything. Okay?”

Ivy took the book in her hand and put it on top of her pillow, running her hand over its cover. “Yes. Okay.”

For reasons unknown to him, Draco smiled widely before reaching his arms around the girl and kissing her sweetly on the top of her head. As he had done the same thing a hundred times before, his arms knew hers and his nose recognized the smell of her hair. This girl was not a half Veela, a wedding gift, a mad woman or any other foolish title others decided to use to put her into their own ‘little boxes’. If they believed she was, they couldn’t have known her at all. Same as the day she had been born and was placed in Draco’s five year old arms by his nervous godfather, she was _his_ Ivy.

“I won’t let you down this time.” Sitting down where he had started the evening, his little witch moved the pillow, one that would from then on be her’s, to his lap and laid her head upon it while she turned to the fireplace. Her eyes fluttered once, twice and then no more as the draw of dreamless sleep took her.

Though he had planned to carry her to her bed when the potions won against her strong will, Draco instead watched the flames dance on her cheeks that were still rounded with youth. He pulled her black hair back from where pieces tickled her twitching nose and watched the lines of tension that reminded him of her father fade away. Ivy’s jaw unclenched, hands fell from their tight fists and her breaths turned deep and easy. It was after dawn when his own need for a few hours of rest pulled Draco’s eyes away from her sleeping face so he could tuck her into her bed, ward the door and unceremoniously plop into his own still wearing the dark suit he had chosen for the marking ceremony. He kicked off his shoes to free his feet from their prisons and found himself sleeping much better than he had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do comment and react to this chapter. I am quite nervous of how it will be received LOL


	22. Through The Light Into The Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Wow so like 20 hours in and no comments had me REALLY nervous if I lost some of you here or somehow disappointed you. I’m really sorry if this is the case.

Her master let out a breath that calmed her. Hot air brushed over the backs of her ears which staved off the chill of the dungeon floor that had sent her naked body into shivers. His voice was a caress that pulled her into her peaceful place when Hermione knew she was supposed to be afraid. Yet, how could she fear him? What ill feelings could she still harbor for a man who healed her wounds, cooled her fevers and held her hair while she wretched? Severus Snape had promised her an end to her suffering, sweet relief from the burning wound and internal torment that Bellatrix LeStrange had cursed her to endure. And with those three words he spoke, that end was near.

“Forever and always.”

Hermione could have sworn she had been sent to the bottom of black lake, sinking further into the darkness no matter how hard she kicked. Maybe that was the problem. She had read once that when people are drowning, they die not because they cannot swim but because they lose track of where the surface is. Instead of pushing themselves to the air their lungs so desperately ache for, they end up using what little energy they have remaining delving further down. She could not have done that, because she was already on the lake’s sandy floor. Hermione Granger was instantly overwhelmed with realization that she had been one wrong step from being swallowed up by the earth for a very long time.

A dull shock to her neck was logged somewhere in the back of her mind, but it was inconsequential compared to the force that grabbed her by the collared shirt she was not wearing and began yanking her through the harsh waters towards the surface. Breaking through the final barrier, Hermione could finally feel the light on her face and pulled air rapidly in and out of her lungs until she was steadied. At first, the brightness burned her eyes but soon she adjusted and turned around rapidly, noting that she was afloat without kicking her legs. The last thing she needed was to see his face, and she would be safe.

The witch was only vaguely aware of being brought to her feet, redressed and folded into the arms of her master. His lips found the top of her head and she sunk into him, realizing how little it hurt to simply _be._ In the light Snape had drawn her to, her pain was gone. The ache of her mudblood scar was not at the forefront of her mind and a severe hunger rolled in her stomach, while a much more mild craving warmed her somewhere lower still.

At the sound of her growling stomach, Severus laughed and pulled her back to attack her mouth with a ridiculous smile pressed into her face. Had she ever envisioned him so happy? “Welcome to the land of the living, my pet. Do you feel that? Can you _feel_ the light as it heals you?”

For a moment she couldn’t wrap her head around what he was talking about. Could she feel what exactly? But the absence of pain was all she noticed until she opened her eyes and took a good look at the potions master that would be her lord for the rest of time itself. Had Hermione ever been told she needed glasses, or even gotten headaches hunching over parchments for hours on end in the low lighting of the library after dusk? No, not that she could recall. But then why were the bumps of Professor Snape’s at least thrice broken nose turned to hard lines that she could have traced with her fingertips along the points of fracture? How could the voids that blended his iris and pupil into a solid mass suddenly turn into two very different colors? A slate grey and true black respectively. The fabric of his always itchy looking robes and frock coats was so much softer under her hands despite that she could trace each individual thread for the entire length it ran down the garment. It was as if she was truly _seeing_ for the first time.

Quickly, he released her and she was spun around to greet their guests that filed through and said their congratulations and well wishes. It took her several minutes to realize that she had not felt dizzy at the sudden turn and she relished in that, while absentmindedly shaking hands and receiving gifts. Severus insisted that it was tradition for her to open them immediately and in front of the giver. A few of the packages that unwrapped to be discrete black boxes made her flush knowing that the minister of magic saw her receive lingerie, but most were quite tame. By the end of the receiving line she was the proud owner of a dragonhide wand holster, a book with Ablus Dumbledore on the dust jacket titled _And So They Were Good,_ several baskets of fruit, wine and cheeses, and a pile of lacey underthings that she caught Severus eyeing on more than one occasion. Her lord made a poor effort to hide his sly smile while he quite obviously was imaging taking them off of her.

The earlier embarrassment she felt was relieved when Genesis - a woman she had not realized with her old sight was quite literally breathtakingly beautiful - handed her what appeared to be an empty perfume bottle with an atomizer on the end of a short tube. Her perfect pink lips kissed her on the cheek and Kingsley leaned in to whisper in Hermione’s ear. “My Genesis has bottled the air of the arctic for you. It is a more precise numbing agent than potions can provide the rest of the wizarding world. A puff or two can ease pain without reducing sensation on the more intimate regions of the body. Knowing the tastes of my dearest friend, I do suggest you apply it liberally.” Soon he retreated, wishing her new lord well and moving on.

Lysis hugged her, and slipped a pot of what appeared to be red paint into her palm. In fact, Hermione could smell it from a distance and it was without a doubt acrylic paint. She too moved in as if to kiss Hermione on the cheek and instead spoke in hushed tones. “Just in case you find yourself needing a glove with which to stroke his ego. You will do wonderfully, love.”

Her master - no, not anymore. Her _lord_ sat down in his typical chair that had been put off to the side and turned to face the room and was handed a plate of delicious smelling food. Hermione sat by his feet and watched him give her the first bite before taking his own with care to make sure they were the same size. Severus had told her that it was to signify he would care for her before and as well as he did himself and having finally practiced it, the witch found it to be quite a lovely sentiment. Had anyone fed her since she could hold a spoon? It was unlikely. Parents of strong willed and independent daughters knew that coddling was not worth the fights it provoked.

Not long had passed before the cake was served, dishes were collected then vanished to the kitchen and guests began to slip away without so much as a wave. The only verbal goodbye they received was from Ivy and Draco when the latter declared it was well past the former’s bedtime. Even less than that, of the Shacklebolts only Kingsley made any attempt to recognize them, giving a respectful bow to her lord that was repeated back as well as he could have while seated upon his throne for the night.

And just like that, they were alone. She had been naked in that room daily for admittedly only a short while but it was delightfully comfortable. Unlike the first time he had brought her down to apologize to the body she had harmed, it did not come across as a particularly intimidating place. Rugs were scattered about to keep bare feet off of the cold stones, blankets provided coverage and coziness and his bed - now _their_ bed - was draped from each poster to the next with translucent green curtains. Hundreds of candles burned about the room giving it a romantic hue and Hermione felt it was almost appropriate what was to happen next. The natural order of the universe, as it was.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Hermione? I’m going to have a stiff drink myself.” His velvet voice sent shivers of anticipation down her spine and his fingers worked at the tense muscles of her shoulders. 

She nodded. “No liquor. Just the tea for me.”

Taking her much by surprise, his arm reached around and hand clamped down upon her throat. “‘Just the tea for me, my lord’. Say it and it will be yours.”

The witch took a draw through her nose to test the flow of air and found no restriction. This was not a threat, but a show of the very dominance she had agreed to allow him. _A small price to pay._ “Please only tea, my lord.”

“Tea it is.” He stood and crossed to the kitchen cove where he put the kettle on and began pulling down an ornate tea set that she had not seen before. Snape seemed to have noticed where her eyes were fixed and chuckled without malice. _Severus Snape_ had chuckled. “This set is only for those who have been brought into the light. If you were to have tried to drink from it before, the cups would have turned up dry. Truth be told, it serves no purpose other than to be a fun party trick. Other than that, they are sold to support temples in parts of the world where the local wizards and witches would otherwise not have access to healers of the light. What is a bit of silliness for a good cause, do you not agree?”

Severus handed her a warm cup and retrieved himself a few fingers of amber liquid that was decidedly _not_ cheap firewhisky. They sat together, her having been welcomed onto his lap, in a peaceful silence. Despite having been awake for nearly twenty hours, Hermione did not experience any heaviness of her eyelids or the urge to yawn.

“Curious, isn’t it?” Snape said. “The sharpening of the senses alongside the increased degree of self control. You are getting the newfound sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste from the light cleansing your muddled body and mind of all the dirt and dust it had collected over the years. No greater killer of germs than a touch of sunshine, wouldn’t you say? The ability to resist tiredness when necessary, and other strengths that you will find with time, comes from me. You now have my level of control on every part of you, including your magic. It is as if we were separate bodies of water and a channel has been dug between them. We will always be tied to one another.” 

His voice grew nearer and his open mouth pressed into her upper arm before his bite sunk in as well. The sharp squeezing and piercing of her skin made Hermione grit her teeth, but as soon as he pulled away and thrummed his fingers over the two crescent shaped wounds they knit themselves together and left no scars behind. Upon watching the process, the young witch looked down at where she had been trying to drain the dark magic from her body and noted that the flesh was without blemish.

“Oh my god, they’re gone. All of my scars are gone.” And to her great joy, the harsh word had gone with them. “How did you do that? Teach me, my lord.”

“No no no.” The wizard pulled the ribbon out of her hair and began unwinding her braid and any tangles that formed as a result with only his fingers. “That is magic for a wizard. Fear not, there are other things you will be able to do once you can take the time to learn them. However, before then, the ceremony must be completed. Otherwise all of these changes will not be able to settle into your soul. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Hermione swallowed her protests that learning should never wait and instead shook her head when words evaded her.

Digging in the pocket of his robes, she was shown the third and final container of the evening that would touch her fingertips. “This is your fertility potion, but it is much different than the nutritional type that I was giving you before. Those were to keep up your strength and promote healthy ovulation while this one will trigger it, prepare your womb and enable everything to travel where it needs to go. It is also a lubricating agent. You are going to go to the loo then lay on the bed and I will apply it. For no reason will you touch this potion or yourself tonight and you will _absolutely not_ climax without my explicit command to do so. Is that understood, Madam Snape?”

That was her name. Madam Snape. And this was what she had agreed to. “Yes, my lord.”

With that he sent her to the bathroom and she only remembered in the final moments before she left the room to retrieve her perfume bottle. After relieving herself and trying to ensure she was as clean as possible, down to using a spell that whitened her most shameful place, she sat upon the counter top and spread her legs. With three quick pinches of the bulb, she sent the coldest air she had ever felt over her labia and tried not to hiss when the invasive sensation brushed against her clitoral hood as well. _Merlin, how could this help the situation?_ She was sure she was going to be an icicle down there until the sensation faded into only a slight breeze. It was at the bare minimum more tolerable. 

When she arrived back in their chambers, Hermione crawled up on the bed still wearing her robe that was tied in a bow at the front like a christmas present to be unwrapped. Severus watched her with a hungry look in his eyes - those gorgeous eyes - and rid himself of his robes, jacket and belt. He took off his shoes on the side of the bed and vanished his socks, which Hermione decided was likely for the best. Was there a sensual way to remove socks? She could not imagine one.

Her head was propped up with a few pillows and her lord put hands under her knees to bend them and spread her legs. Despite the calm of the man who pulled the cork from the potion and lifted up the edge of her robe to look beneath, Hermione could not rid herself of the fear that his hands would be cold. She had been to a muggle gynecologist only once - after the war - when she had experienced a bout of amenorrhea. The cause of it had been the malnutrition she had endured while searching for horcruxes, but she had not gotten out of there without experiencing a pelvic exam. It had been the only man to ever touch her, until she laid in bed with the wizard whose name had been branded into her skin.

Severus poured the potion onto one hand and moved to work it between her folds. Typically a warm region of the female body, they icey to the touch. He spread it around her entrance before inserting one finger into her opening as a test. It was delightfully hot in there and Snape felt back on familiar territory. His pet gasped, her hips lacking the desired rolling he wished to elicit, but did not appear to be in any pain. So he added another, and then a third, curling them to reach the sweet spot that would bring her pleasure she had never experienced. As far as his exploration of her mind had discovered, she had never so much as masturbated. When the potion was coating all that it would, he moved his fingers to her pink bud and circled them gently, leaning forward to whisper as sweetly as he could in her ear. “Let me care for you.”

When he pushed the first digit into her, she held back a whimper. While the breeze had numbed her outer intimate regions, her channel remained unaffected. The stretch of his ministrations on her tender flesh elicited an uncomfortable tingling that turned to a painful burning and then one step beyond. She whined and he smiled in a sweet way that she read as an apology and withdrew, instead focusing on her bundle of nerves. Hermione closed her eyes - she thought only for a moment or two - in response to how he pleased her and when she opened them, the remainder of his clothing had vanished. Before her was a naked potions professor, and between his legs what she could have only described as a weapon.  
Though the brilliant young witch had fought in a war with killing curses and torture aplenty, this was the first time she felt as if she was looking down the barrel of a loaded gun. No anatomical diagram could have adequately prepared her for what had been hidden beneath so many layers of black. Nearly the length of her wand and too girthy for even the potions master to wrap his hand entirely around, his cock glistened with arousal that left her frightened and feeling far out of her depths. Instantly she felt silly. How could the brightest witch of her age be afraid of something as natural and common as sex with a man that she loved? Had everyone she knows not done the same in one way or another during the celebrations after Voldemort was defeated? 

“It’s… a lot.” She said, unsure what else was supposed to say the deafening silence.

Her lord smirked and pulled at the bow on her waist, then helped her remove her arms from the robe and sent it onto the floor with a flutter. “Do not find yourself worrying about the _fit_ , Madam Snape. That is the worry of a silly little school girl and you are not a school girl anymore, are you? And you certainly have never been _silly._ But am I mistaken? Are you letting your mind wander to such a foolish place?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, my lord.”

“Good,” Snape moved to hover over her, and she felt the tip of his member settle itself against her opening. “I am going to do this very quickly, my pet. There is no sense in making this more of an event than it has to be. Your body will accommodate, I assure you. This is what the light designed witches and wizards to do.”

Only seconds after his sentence ended, the pushing forward began. Hermione bit her lip at the impossible way her body allowed such an invasion without putting up much resistance. Even as her flesh stretched and tore, liquid dripping down and pooling beneath her, there was too much lubrication in place to stop the force that was the wizard who hovered above her. It was only when the force left her entirely that she could feel the fast swelling and ache down below.

Sat back on his heels, her lord stared for a moment and then set his jaw with determination. “Genesis gave you that bottle. Where did you leave it? In the bathroom?” She nodded and Snape stalked off to retrieve it. When he returned, her legs were forced further apart and fingers inserted to spread her open while more arctic air was sent deep within. “You need to apply this internally as well. It does not work if you can’t remember that. Do not make this mistake again.” Severus set the bottle aside and lined himself up again, quickly regaining his lost progress and moving onward.

“My lord, I can’t.” She gasped, unable to envision that anything other than a knife was going to be pushed within her most sensitive depths. “Please.”

Though she was a vice that clamped down on every bit of him she could swallow, Snape pressed onward. “Please do what?” Another flex of his hips brought a dampened moan to her lips and he used his elbow to support himself while cupping her face with his hand. “Shh, my dear. I’m almost in, I promise. It will only be your first time once.” _Thank the light._

Hermione was unsure if that was a warning to enjoy it or words of comfort. Though she was losing every grip she had on reason, the witch knew that the potions master took no pleasure in hurting her this way. It was an essential part of any magical marriage - a swift consummation - and he simply was playing the hand he had been dealt. But while tears streaked her face, she could not push away the fear that her husband was a cruel man who had made himself this way for her suffering. Were their spells of that kind? Ones to make well endowed men into bloody tree trunks?

Feeling thoroughly damned for the agony he was causing his virgin bride, Severus wished the world would swallow him whole. He would have given his very salvation back if it meant that she could be cleansed without the pain that his body was inflicting in hers. In the end, while he had hoped she would adjust, easing in had been prolonging a cruel fate. So with a final flick of his hips he buried the remaining half of his length into the warm soft flesh of her quim and moved to kiss away the trembling of her lower lip. “I’m sorry, my sweet love. The worst of it is over now. I promise.”

And maybe it was, the trauma already inflicted, but that did not stop guilt that ripped through her with each thrust of the man who breathed heavily above her when he brushed against her unexplored depths and left her wishing both for less friction and as much as she could obtain. He kept a steady pace that was agonizingly slow as if he wished to draw it out, and his eyes remained locked on hers while he spoke in his soothing tones. “I love you, Hermione. Oh no, my good girl, you’re doing so well. Shh, baby. Don’t cry. You’re alright.”

The hand he had used to guide himself into her now free, Severus found her little nub once more and rubbed in circles with hopes of bringing her a smidge of pleasure in the wake of her bountiful pain. Her breathing changed beside his ear and he increased his efforts, happy to provide any distraction possible from the pace he simply had to pick up. The sooner he could finish, the sooner he could evaluate the damage done.

The swirl of tension that built under her lord’s fingers felt like a betrayal of her body. Though she felt herself winding like a music box ready to burst forth in song, she was a mere bystander to her pleasure. The breaths she had held to keep from crying out obscenities were suddenly rapidly leaving her and she could not help but wonder what was to come? Was it death? Had she only gotten an hour of clarity before she was going to meet her end? After battling forces of darkness, would her final hour be in bed with her potions Professor due to a previously undetected defect of her anatomy? A magical outburst via orgasm that sent them both to their ends? If this was the embrace of her last moments, at least it was euphoric. Through the internal beating she was receiving she could sense her body beginning to shutter and mumbled words whispered in her ear. 

“Let go now. It’s alright.”

And let go she did, bursting at the seams and the tumbling into pitch black night. At least wherever she was, the sky was full of stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sure this isn’t everyone’s sexy cup of tea but we will get to smooth sailing next time. This is essential to the plot.
> 
> And she’s fine, by the way. No need to panic. All will be explained soon.


	23. Of All The Vile Things

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco recalled a shifting on the other side of his mattress that disrupted his otherwise easy end-of-sleep dreams. He also recalled a warmth that he felt drawn to that he brushed several times with his fingertips. Only when his eyes fluttered open then quickly shut again at the sight of a too bright candle did Malfoy realize that his fingers had interwoven with someone else's, and his no-longer-sock-clad feet had sought out the furry softness of Astoria’s bathrobe where he loved to tuck them under her bum. How many nights had he snuck her into his bed without being noticed and made gentle love while her cries of pleasure reverberated off the dungeon ceilings? They would reach the peaks of passion and promptly pass out to recover before beginning it all again the next evening. It was laughable the number of ways the two restless sleepers had managed to tangle their limbs together and wake up as sore pretzels that needed steam from a hot shower to recover. That hardly mattered as long as they were close. Together, they were home.

Draco twitched his nose and nuzzled forward, seeking out the expensive floral perfumes that the Greengrasses sent their daughters, and was jolted into consciousness upon the realization that the crook of the neck he burrowed his face smelled more of the school soap than Chanel. It was _not_ Astoria in his bed, and he groaned at the recollection that he had only warded the door across from his to alert him of unrecognized magical signatures entering her rooms. None of his spells had been aimed at keeping the girl where she belonged. With as much subtlety as he could manage, Draco pulled back to a more comfortable distance and let go of her hand. As a last minute thought, he draped enough blankets over himself so that if the act of waking resulted in any unintended alertness, she would not be traumatized by it. Satisfied with the coverage offered, Draco moved to pushing her shoulder gently until the girl’s eyes opened.

“Why are you in my bed, Ivy Lane?”

Her dark - but he noticed then expertly plucked - eyebrows furrowed with indignation and she huffed like a dragon with the flare of her nostrils. Lips visibly dry from sleep pursed into an untrusting scowl and she crossed her arms much as she would have if standing. “I had a bad dream and I couldn’t wake you up so I stayed here.”

“Oh.” Was all he could answer, noting that with the dreamless sleep and calming drought he had given her she should have been out for a solid ten hours. He would have to increase the dosage that night. “I’m sorry. Last night I was a little…”

“Drunk?” Ivy asked.

Draco shook his head in denial. “No. Just tired. I’ve had a long week.” Sure he was safe from any unwanted swelling, the wizard sat up and got out of bed with a stiff stumble that indicated he was not entirely in control of his limbs so early in the morning. He mindlessly grabbed a change of clothes from his trunk and gestured in the general direction of his private bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower. You should return to your room and do the same.”

Ivy sat up and cocked her head to one side, evaluating the blonde wizard. “Are you angry with me, Draco? For coming into your bedroom. I won’t do it again if it made you mad, I was just a bit frightened.”

“No, I’m not angry. As I said, only tired.” He reached the door frame of his bathroom and used it to stretch his shoulders and back until he didn’t feel like he was going to flop onto the floor with legs made of jelly. “Go on now, Ivy Lane.” Draco ordered and waited for her to leave before closing the bathroom door and getting undressed. 

He took a piss before getting into the shower and realized his alcohol consumption the evening before had left him quite dehydrated. Stepping under the falling water he wiped the crustiness from his eyes and brushed his teeth to remove the sourness from his mouth. The act of getting washed up always woke him up, though Astoria’s mouth was known to do the same thing, and thinking of that gave him an opportunity to take care of himself before beginning the day. A quick wank to the thought of her tongue’s finer work and the view of her gorgeous blue eyes while her mouth was wrapped around his cock was enough to send him over the edge and he washed a second time so he could feel clean again. There was something about scalding water that left him red and a coarse bristled brush that made his skin raw that separated the acts he performed when alone or in Astoria’s company from the rest of the world. Personal hygiene drew a thick and bold line between Draco Malfoy as a sexual being and Draco Malfoy headboy, student and - as odd as it sounded to say it - soon to be father.

After drying off and getting dressed, combing his hair and scrubbing his hands one last time - he told himself for good measure - he felt like a proper gentleman again. Someone that was surely appropriate enough to spend time with a thirteen year old girl, patrol the halls for school children in need of scolding and study for his NEWTS with any spare time that remained. Before exiting, he looked in the mirror to remind himself yet again that he was _not_ Kingsley Shacklebolt no matter what the minister wished for him to believe. He was Draco Malfoy and through the light of redemption he would allow himself to be reformed. If not for himself, for his girls.

 _My girls. Holy shit._ It was a thought that a younger version of himself would have found erotic, images of Pansy, Daphne and even on occasion Lavender swarming around him with hands venturing curious places had danced through his mind from time to time. Though changed, he had pondered what life would look like with Astoria on his arm and Ivy sitting on his knee since he had been granted the title of lord by Severus, but that was uncomfortably enough only a temporary arrangement. Astoria would have one child at the very least - by the holidays according to his math - and Ivy would grow up. Respectively dressed in pink and black, Astoria would trade fine lingerie for nursing wear while Ivy would move from dolls to dolling herself up in the same heavy handed way younger students of his house did as they grew into their own femininity. Life would be ever changing in ways that he could not reconcile with and chose to push out of his head. If Draco couldn’t keep fast on his feet, he wouldn’t make it through the day.

It took Ivy some time to get ready after Draco reached the living area and he cast a tempus when yawns overtook him. The lack of light in the dungeons did not make waking up at a proper hour any easier but he had had several years to get used to that. His spell showed that it was eight o’clock and that meant that they had time to make breakfast in the great hall if they hurried. It also meant that the wizard had likely only gotten three hours of sleep. Draco knew he was going to be dead on his feet by the afternoon. So instead of trying to urge Ivy to move faster by yelling through the door, which would surely drain his low supply of energy prematurely, he summoned a tray from the kitchens. First he put the pumpkin juice in front of her but then had it traded out by the house elves for cranberry as it was dark enough to cover the remaining half vial of calming drought he stirred in with the spoon that he then vanished from sight. There was no room to carelessly leave evidence behind.

Did he feel guilty for using potions to keep her mellow and cooperative? Maybe a bit. Severus hadn’t told him he should but also didn’t make any specific rule that he couldn’t. As far as Draco was concerned the choice had been left up to him. Anyways, hadn’t she seemed happier under the influence of his little cocktail? The two of them could find ways to do well together if he could manage to keep her agreeable.

When Ivy emerged from what he quickly had decided was her bedroom, she was dressed in a similar black ensemble to those she had worn since getting off the train. He noted that this one looked much less stifling. The roomy sleeves that pleated into cuffs around her wrists were even a translucent material that appeared would allow more air to pass through than the thick Severus-like fabrics and cuts that she had worn before.

 _Fuck._ Draco grumbled while he sipped his tea. _She is a mini Severus. Oh he would be so proud._ As if he didn't have enough trouble sharing a castle with one of them.

“Eat breakfast.” He caught himself before he snapped his fingers and instead just pointed to the tray. “Come on, we have things to do.” 

Ivy sat down next to him just as she had the night before and spread jam on a piece of toast, alternating it with bites from a crispy strip of bacon and seemingly dancing with a slight shift of her hips as she ate.

“What are you doing?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

The girl flushed and she swallowed the last bite of bread. “Getting my wiggles out.”

“Your _what?_ ”

She started again her little dance as a demonstration and smirked when Draco still did not relax. “My wiggles. Happy wiggles. You know, when you have something yummy to eat or receive good news or the post arrives. I like my breakfast so I wiggle. Did you cook this?”

The look of confusion did not leave his face even with her odd explanation as it had been followed by an even stranger question. “No, I had it brought from the kitchens. Eat your eggs before they get cold.” It would not fare well for Draco if he allowed her to get sick off of room temperature food. His witch, his responsibility. Snape had made that abundantly clear.

* * *

_“Draco, you need to take this with you.” Severus said when handing him an overnight bag that Ivy had packed. “I would send this with house elves but I think it would be best if someone who could recognize dark artifacts unpacked it and could confiscate anything troublesome. Would you not agree?”_

_“Aren’t you being at least a little ridiculous? Where would she get dark artifacts?” He took the bag and looked at the innocent enough black leather tote with curious expression. “She’s thirteen and been here for two days.”_

_Snape laughed a little wickedly and went back to stirring the potion on his desk. “Ivy attracts trouble like moths to a flame and always gets what she wants. If you cannot find a way to understand that she will eat you alive. Stay on guard at the very least and you will be as fine as can be expected.”_

_Draco rolled his eyes. “What will she do? Talk me to death about unicorns? I am sure I can handle one little girl.”_

_Two black eyebrows raised at surprise - apparently for his ignorance - and then Severus shook his head. “Ivy can be your best friend or your worst nightmare. She can burrow under your skin or dance just outside of your reach and that is only determined by how willing to cooperate she is at that moment. There is no conscious thought to this, Draco. My daughter does not choose the influence her inner Veela has on her behavior or her magic, nor is she aware of it. Do not let her walk all over you or she will do so for the rest of your life.”_

_“She is a child!” He protested. “Can’t you consider the possibility that you’re being a bit extreme about this?”_

_“Did_ **_you_ ** _have to pay for when she destroyed all the furniture in her common room at school because she was frustrated with her transfiguration homework? Did_ **_you_ ** _spend an entire summer writing back and forth with her headmistress to talk her into giving her another chance when a fellow student caught fire because she was absently staring too long in their general direction in a charms class? Did you have to deal with any of it?” Snape grit his teeth. “I did not believe so because_ **_you_ ** _do not know her as I do._ **_You_ ** _are not her father. And_ **_you_ ** _do not love her more than your every breath. Do not come to me with doubts of who my daughter is. When I warn you - listen! If you wish for her to be your wife one day then you will have to expect this of her and learn to take it as a gentleman. Consider it an illness, not a flaw of her character, and you may survive.”_

_To Draco, his words seemed incredibly contradictory. He was supposed to both prepare for her to wreak havoc for her wishes and yet not hold her accountable for any of it. Had sending in his declaration of betrothal been sealing himself and Astoria to deal with a chaotic force for the rest of their lives? No. He would not allow this to rest on someone else’s shoulders. Still, doubts nagged at him that Ivy was being given the disadvantage of being judged based on exaggerated incidences of uncontrolled magic. Hadn’t he himself experienced several as a child? And truth be told, between himself and the Golden trio enough damage had been done to the castle by their third year to outdo her by a substantial amount._

_Severus groaned and Draco recognized the familiar sensation of his mind being rummaged around in. “Do not give Ivy the benefit of the doubt. I assure you that it will be to your detriment and perhaps even get her terribly hurt. Then, you will not just have a Veela to go up against but you will have the incredible misfortune of informing me.”_

* * *

“I can’t.” Was all the excuse she offered regarding the rest of her breakfast before picking up a napkin to dab at the corners of her mouth. “You know I’m a good cook, right? I’m sure my father told you. I sent him cookies once. At my old school, we had to do our own cooking much of the time. Only dinner was served in our dining area.”

The girl’s skill was intriguing, and Draco was sure it would prove beneficial to him at some point, but he could not simply ignore her outright refusal. “You can’t be full yet. Eat the eggs and then we can go find something to do.”

“I can’t. Those are chicken eggs. I’m allergic to chicken eggs. My father used other types when I was young but I got used to not having eggs at school and now I don’t have a taste for them. It wasn’t as if I could go to the muggle specially grocer like he did.”

It was perplexing to him that Severus of all people went out of his way to find a substitute for his daughter and Draco had to wonder if the man had a softer side for children when they weren’t belonging to strangers, irritating acquaintances or full blown enemies. “Fine, but drink your juice. I’m not having everyone see you pass out.” How could Snape have not told Draco that bit of information? Was refraining from sending the girl into anaphylactic shock not an important part of keeping her alive and in one piece? Somehow vague dramatics took priority. Severus had spent too long under the thumb of his now decreased masters not to pick up their tendency to leave out detrimental details. 

Without any protest she downed the tart red liquid and moved to brush any crumbs off of her clothes. It was a relief to Draco that she had not seemed to detect any flavor either time he had slipped potions into her drinks and hoped it would be just as easy to continue. Although, after her obvious resistance to dreamless sleep and the last evenings calming drought, it seemed that a visit to Knockturn Alley would be in order.

“What are we doing today? Will you show me around the grounds? Maybe I could meet your friends.” Again she bounced joyfully, which had gone from perplexing to amusing in a short period of time but he shook his head in refusal.

“We have to go into London. Have you ever been to Diagon Alley?” Draco asked.

“Nope.” She popped the word. “But I went to Hogsmead often.”

“This will be better.” He promised. “I’ll take you somewhere amazing.”

By the time they reached the Weasley’s shop, he was relatively certain that the drought was at its peak level of effectiveness. Stepping inside, he watched her face light up while she turned around admiring all the spinning, sparking and flashing objects that were playing different music from all directions. It was a place that could amuse her for a long while he ran his errand to the potions shop. But first, he had to find someone to keep an eye on her.

“Ay, Malfoy! What are you hanging around for?” George Weasley called out, sliding down the bars of a ladder he had been standing on while adjusting the various flying contraptions that were tethered to the ceiling by lengths of twine. His eyes widened while taking in the void eyed girl “And who was desperate enough to ask you to babysit?”

Ivy stomped her pointed toe boot and balled her small hands into fists. “I am NOT a baby.” It was a half hearted whine, and her movements lacked force.

“Woah there, little witch, I didn’t mean to upset you.” The red haired wizard looked to Draco with a bit of alarm that he swiftly disguised. “Care to introduce us?”

“Umm, this is Ivy Lane. She’s my-“ He stopped and noticed the raised eyebrows that George gave him. “-charge.”

“I see.” Weasley answered. “And that means?” His voice trailed off and he looked up and down at Draco’s unusual attire - as well as the witch’s - then turned to yell out towards the storeroom. “Angela! Come give Ivy here a tour of the store. Bill whatever she finds to the Malfoy vault. He won’t mind.”

When Ivy trudged off with her arms belligerently crossed, refusing to hold the hand that Angela had offered, he finally scoffed in agreement with her frustration. It was as if neither of them had met a child before, despite Weasley having too many siblings for Draco to keep track of.

“What the fuck is going on, Malfoy? It’s been a weird week already now you come in here bringing this trouble with you. I’m tired of being made to guess. Just come out with it.”

Draco rubbed his eyes and lowered his voice. “That is Snape’s daughter, alright? I just need someone to keep an eye on her while I run a short errand.”

“That doesn’t explain why _you_ have her.”

He groaned and refused to look the wizard in the eyes. “While Snape is on his honeymoon with Granger I have to take care of her. If I had any other option I would use it but I guarantee she will spend plenty of galleons and I won’t be gone long. Can’t you do this for me? After everything I did, can’t you just keep her out of trouble for a little while?” 

George did not soften the way Draco had expected at the reminder, and instead looked over to the second floor balcony where Angela was brushing the blush from their line of magical cosmetics onto Ivy’s cheeks. “Be quick about it.” He did owe Draco at least one favor. No one in his own family had been in any shape to dig a grave in the wake of Fred’s death and Malfoy hadn’t let him go it alone.

“Thanks.” Draco mumbled - grateful George had not wished to talk that dark night - and headed towards the potions shop where he knew his father had shopped for restricted concoctions and Severus for less than legal ingredients. The low bell rang when he opened the door and he approached the counter directly. This would be fast as he had promised.

“Ah Mister Malfoy. I’m surprised you have thought it wise to show your face around here. I was under the impression you weren’t a complete git the way your parents throw your marks around every conversation.” A cousin of the Goyles that manned the desk sneered at him, but didn’t reach for his wand. It wasn’t a challenge, but a greeting. “Though I do suppose your gold still carries the same weight. What do you need so you can get the hell out of my store? I can’t have everyone knowing I’ve been selling to a traitor.”

Draco pursed his lips and looked around to make sure no one else was in the store. “I need something to relieve mental and magical tension. And the strongest dreamless sleep you’ve got. I want a solid ten hours on a light dose that has about the same chance of failure as waking the dead. Both need to be fast acting. Nothing old with a delayed response and I know a fresh potion when I see one. Can you handle that?”

“Well well well, I wasn’t aware you were the type, Draco. Though you are looking as though you’ve had some late nights. What a pleasant surprise. Your father will be so proud.” The wizard licked his yellowed cracked teeth and left them coated with a layer of slimy saliva that nearly sent Draco into a fit of gagging.

“This will _not_ reach my father.” He had yet to tell him of his choice and would avoid so much as speaking to him until the marking was complete. The last thing he needed was a howler from either parent about the dangers of recreational potion use. “Just bag it up and be quick about it. I have places to be.”

The wizard pulled out a dingy cardboard box from under the counter and rummaged through until he found four different vials with faded labels. “I assure you, these are as potent as they come. My ten fold strength Dreamless Sleep will knock a full grown witch out for twelve hours and this Time Fire will make obligations and previous intentions feel much less urgent but it must be lit with a match - not magic - and allowed to burn at least twenty seconds to cure and remove toxicity. Giggle Goop can make most anything a good time and I would advise you finish them all off with a smidge of Pensive Puddler. Any memories removed from the mind for viewing will be too unclear to make out. No one has to know about what kind of wild times you find yourself having or where you got these. The last thing I need is wands pointed at my nose because a school boy could not exercise the necessary discretion. Ninety-four gallons and I’ll drop the sickles. A special price for the first time. To inspire customer loyalty.” The dark wizard explained.

Draco cringed and pulled out a bag which he had connected to the vault and charmed to only dispense the necessary amount of gold for a transaction. He loosened the ties and dumped it on the counter. “It’s all there. Hand them over.”

The dirty hand pushed the vials his way and swept the galleons into a rusty cash box. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. And a word of advice-“ Draco stopped as he opened the door, in a hurry to get as far away from the disgusting, damp, and utterly deplorable establishment. “no more than one drop of each.”

Those words left the sensation of cockroaches crawling up and down his spine until he escaped the stifling stench of rotting air that hung low and thick in the dark of Knockturn Alley. In the late morning light and vibrant colors of the less malicious storefronts, the vials stuffed into his suit jacket pocket were much lighter. Their clanking around as he walked was quieter, drowned out by the laughter of families with their young children and old wizards sharing stories. He would heed the dark wizards warning, but otherwise put the transaction out of his mind. Draco was confident that he could manage a few silly little potions.

Entering the sensory jostling joke shop, he had no more than a second or two before he was pushed behind the counter, through a service door and into the store room full of half finished products and failed experiments. The red haired wizard that shoved him up against the jagged stone wall had rage filled dark eyes, flared nostrils that rivaled a Hungarian horntail and teeth barred like a werewolf sent after a bleeding victim.

“You. Brought. Your. Child. Bride. Into. My. Store!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all, I’m begging you. Please comment if you read and enjoy this. Ask me questions. React angrily or happily or with confusion. Give me something to work with so I don’t keep refreshing my inbox for two days feeling like I’m losing my mind.
> 
> And in return, I’ll keep these chapters coming.


	24. Let The World Turn Without You Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to run a little contest and I am going to count on the honor system to do it, okay? Can I trust you all? Please don't let me down on this one.
> 
> Whoever can tell me where the title of this chapter is from gets to choose not only HOW angry George is with Draco, but if they will remain reluctant friends or if this will be all we see of George! Just comment where it is from (give it your best guess) and I will send you my email address so we can keep it a surprise for everyone else.

The constriction of his pet’s quim on his cock sent the wizard over the edge into his own climax and he panted through the pulsing that emptied his seed within her. She had closed her eyes and he recognized the look of deliriousness in the wake of a post orgasmic glow. Severus smoothed the hair away from her face and leaned forward to kiss her supple lips before pulling his softening member out of her body and leaning back on his heels once more. As far as his most preliminary evaluations were concerned, the damage was minimal. A brushing of his finger tips only shallowly within her was enough to knit together any open wounds that could have left a raw aching in their wake. Mindful not to put her back exactly as she was before - lest every experience reflect this one on a physical level - he was satisfied with the job he had done.

When her eyes finally opened and Snape had coaxed her into drinking a glass of water and eating several bites of leftover cake, the wizard knew he owed her answers to questions that her mind was stirring with but her tongue could not express. Any words she tried to say came out as incoherent ramblings and Severus smirked as he admired his work. He had fucked the talkative know-it-all completely speechless. 

“Hey now,” He rubbed circles on her back and shushed her fit of frustrated sighing. “you are not injured. You barely bled. You are safe.” Severus laid down beside her and pulled her naked form to lay upon his own, wishing to keep Hermione warm until he had a chance to get her under the covers. “The pain was caused by your mind being unprepared to adjust to the new level of sensation you can now experience. If you had used the numbing agent more thoroughly we could have avoided this but am I right in assuming that you felt more pleasure afterwards?”

“Mhmm,” Was all that he could get out of her and Snape let it go, deciding that it was a conversation that would have to wait for another day. He too needed sleep.

* * *

Morning came much faster for Hermione than it did for Severus. She awoke with a start at the clanging of metal trays being taken away by no less than a dozen house elves that were cleaning their chambers. Most of them stopped to look at her when she sat up in bed, and she pulled the sheet to cover her nakedness. Boney fingers flew over their buggy eyes, and several popped out of the room, sending metal and glass clattering down to the floor, and Hermione was shocked that her new husband did not move an inch.

“We are all very sorry, Madam Snape!” One female elf that she was quite sure was named Betsy who was wearing a floral pillow case bent forward and tapped along the floor trying to retrieve the large pan she had dropped. “We will get this cleaned up and be gone very fast. We promise.”

Hermione let out the breath she had been holding when none of the elves tried to punish themselves. “How did he sleep through all that? And I’m covered. You can look at what you’re doing. Try not to cut yourselves on the glass”

She dropped her hands and vanished the shards at her feet but retrieved the now dented metal tray. “Oh Master Snape does not seem to mind when house elves work in his room. Betsy is not sure if he does not hear us or is just very tired.”

“Oh.” The witch paled. “Well, thank you.”

“Madam Snape is very truly welcome.”

When most of the elves had left the room, and she was nearly certain they were not coming back, she wrapped herself in the flat sheet she managed to free from the bed and ran to the bathroom for a steaming shower. Her muscles were a bit stiff and her hair looked like she had been attacked by some sort of mythical monster made of carpeting and latex balloons, but overall, she felt much like herself. It was disorienting seeing the pores of every stone on their floor, the miniscule scratches on the bathroom hardware and the individual water droplets that cascaded from the shower head. Other than that, Hermione was forced to admit that she felt much better than she had in a very long time. 

After she washed up, untangled her hair with a large glob of conditioner and dried off from the shower Hermione’s hand swept away the condensation that gathered on the surface of the bathroom mirror and Hermione met her own gaze. Did she look any different? From that view specifically, just her face, did it show what had changed in her eyes or smile? Was there a spot on her nose or a wrinkle in her brow that now gave off the impression of the maturity she had earned? Did she even want that? Did her Lord?

Kingsley Shacklebolt had two very different wives that he adored. Genesis clung to him like a fearful child, despite having raised two daughters to school aged and birthed another, and he showered her with gentle touches, sweet praise and unexpectant encouragement. When his kisses passed over her eyelids, she flushed the citrus pink of sunsets over the lake and giggled like sleigh bells nearly too far in the distance to know if they were real or just one’s imagination. Lysis was fierce and bold by comparison, so he kept his distance and exchanged conversations in only eye rapid movement, curls of their lips and flashes of devilish teeth. They were full of heat and friction, a gas planet and its nearby sun, him orbiting around to give her space to burn bright and give off her brilliant colors.

Which could Severus want from her? Innocence and child-like fear? Passion in silence? Hard to hold onto or difficult to shed? Strong enough to stand up to his harsh words or submissive enough to accept their blow with grace? Could Hermione be whatever he needed her to become?

No. That was not the witch she was.

She took her time drying the mass of wet curls, brushed her teeth until her gums bled and moisturized parts of her body she typically did not concern herself with the dryness of. It was only when she had grazed the back of her neck that her mind returned to the sting that resided there. The mark.

His mark.

It stung at the touch of her finger tips, just any other burn she had ever received, but a careful placement of her hand mirror showed what Hermione needed to see with her own eyes to believe was real. There it was.  _ Severus Snape  _ read plain as day with smooth short strokes carved into her skin.

Her breath caught in her throat and she began to sob. The mimicked sensation of a gaping hole in her stomach caused her to double over on the bathroom floor and she remembered being told by the mandatory counselor she had seen only once at St Mungos that putting her head between her legs could halt an oncoming panic attack. 

What had Hermione done? Given up her freedom as a witch to live with Severus Snape? The dungeon walls around her were suddenly radiating cold drafts from every direction and she pulled her towel tightly around her middle in a failed attempt to still her shuttering organs. Determination set on her face and she willed herself to remember what brought her to such a place, falling apart on the head of the slytherin house’s bathroom floor. Her reason was  _ him.  _ And  _ he _ was worth it. 

His voice came muffled through the closed door. “Hermione, I am coming in.” Severus announced only moments before taking his wand to the lock and vanishing it instead of just forcing it open. It would have been too cumbersome in the coming days to leave it in place. His wife would be in that room a lot. He frowned at the sight of Hermione on the ground, but used a gentle touch pulling her into his arms and carrying her only towel clad form to sit in his lap on his favorite armchair in front of the fire. Running hands over her shivering and sobbing body, he wandlessly spelled her hair up out of the way and transfigured the damp towel into a warm sweater and thick pants. 

“Shh, my pet. You are quite fine. There is no reason to get yourself all worked up. Breathe for me. That’s it. Easy breaths.”

Snape had known she would be distressed following the ceremony and consummation while her magic fused to his own - as both their handtamer he had seen the havoc wreaked on Genesis and Lysis - but he had not been able to picture the Gryffindor princess reduced to such hysterics until the evidence was laying on his floor tiles. And yet, Hermione was no longer Minerva’s charge but his own Queen of Slytherin. The bloodstain on his bedsheets and the brand over her spine was evidence enough of that.

“What-” Hermione sniffled, wiping her nose on the handkerchief he had offered, “-is wrong with me? My chest feels like… and my head is pounding… and I just want to d- to sleep for the rest of my life.”

Settling into a rhythmic rocking of her sobbing form, Severus continued to rub comforting circles over the less raw parts of her back. “Do not worry, my love. This is only temporary. Please breathe deeply for me and you will feel better.” When she pulled back her hands for a moment but avoided settling them in her lap, his mind traveled to their night’s activities. “Are you in pain my pet?” Hermione nodded shyly at first, underselling her suffering, until she realized he did not frown or smile either way. “This is not a time to prove you can handle it. I  _ know  _ you are brave and it is only you and I here. You are not being tested.”

Her movements became much more harsh, and accurate. Every step she took or shift she made triggered the pulsing and burning of raw strained flesh. In muggle terms, though not the worst pain she had experienced, it was a solid four out of ten. “I’m very sore.”

His expression darkened and he nodded knowingly. “I do apologize, but I cannot provide you with any pain relief or healing potions for this purpose. Besides being against the light’s traditions, most of them have ingredients that when combined with your fertility potion will either cause an overdose of a particular ingredient or render the potion ineffective at supporting conception.” Severus grit his teeth, remembering that they would need to have sex that day and each one until it was confirmed she was pregnant. If they did not, his poor wife would have many more things to worry about than a sore intimate region. “Either we can use the arctic air again or I can apply something else to soothe you. Given what you have taken leading up to the marking, your body should respond quite positively to it - physically and emotionally - if you would like to try. It would provide you a measure of relief.”

“Try what?” Her eyes swam with desperation and he pitied her for the stewing of emotion, power and pain that stirred within like the perfect storm.  _ I’ll do anything. _

“My-” The wizard paused, remembering her hesitation to use the scientific term in the temple and nervous that she would reject it if he did. “-essence, half taken internally and half applied topically, could provide you some measure of relief. It tells the light that I am pleased with you, and you with me, which in turn pleases the light.”

His little witch paused, taken aback as he had expected, but soon nodded. “What do I do?”

“It does not have to be now,” Severus promised, kissing her forehead gently, and hoping she would wait. There was nothing particularly erotic to him about a witch with tears streamng down her face who could not stop shivering. “But you would need to use your mouth to pleasure me until I reach completion. Then we would apply some of the fluid to your sore regions while you would swallow the rest as one would a potion. My understanding is that the benefits are instantaneous.”

“Why? I mean, why does it work?” Hermione wondered, and was relieved when a smile spread across her Lord’s face. He  _ had  _ told her to question everything.

Professor Snape nodded with approval, pleased by her curious mind.  _ The marking has already restored the girl’s courage.  _ This was the witch he had wanted to bring forth from the compulsive, self harming and traumatized girl that entered his potions classroom the first week of the term. “There are many theories, but no absolute holy book of the light to refer to. I personally believe many of the rituals for the beginning of marriage are sexual in nature to help blushing brides and hesitant husbands feel less ashamed about their own pleasure. The light made our bodies capable of earth shattering pleasure, so why should we not enjoy that together? If you experience menstrual cramps with your cycle, I know an excellent spell that requires oral sex of the  _ other  _ kind.” He winked at her and she smiled, as embarrassed by sexual talk as he liked his witches. The shy and happy ones were his favorite.

“I’d be mortified.” She snorted.

“Trust that it does not bother me one bit.” Snape kissed her lips for only a few seconds, making no attempt to explore her with his tongue. He would let her come to him. “If you are feeling a little more relaxed, I think the numbing agent would be sufficient. Looking at the time, I am afraid that your friend Potter will be here in a very short while as well. You should not keep him waiting.”

Hermione flushed and then looked at him with a tilted stare and a small smile. “Since when do you care what inconveniences Harry?”

Fingers pulled through her hair, bringing it back down to rest well down past her shoulders. Severus wondered absentmindedly if she would trust him to cut it, and nearly scoffed at the thought.  _ Where did that come from? _

“I do not care if Potter is made to wait all day, but I am a wizard of my word.” Snape wordlessly accioed her shoes and socks and helped her put them on. “You chose him to be an important part of your life and I am responsible for accepting his partnership in your care and well being.”

“So why is he coming?” She tied her sneaker and tested her feet on the floor, then stood.

Severus brushed off his black robes from the hair she had shed and brought her the potions bottle, placing it nearly ceremoniously in her hands with a twitch of his lips. If she could be this trusting of him, then he was certain a bit of playfulness was not out of the question. “To ensure I have not hurt or killed you, Madam Snape. I trust you finally understand the importance of thorough application?”

Hermione nodded, turned towards the bathroom for her privacy and then stopped with a jolt.

“What is wrong now, my pet? What could possibly be more important than your pain?”

Memories of Ivy’s arrival, and their trip back to Hogwarts had sent her into a tizzy. The recollections were blurry if she tried to focus too much on them, and the attempt gave her the beginnings of a headache. Still, she had to ask. “What is my name, my Lord?”

“Excuse me?”

“My name, what is it now?” Hermione tried to remember what had been said between the two wizards while she had faded in and out of fevered consciousness. “Draco changed Ivy’s name. He was calling her Ivy Lane. Did you change my name like that?”

Her husband, who had been gathering supplies to make them both tea in the kitchen froze and stiffened, then continued on as if he had not reacted so extremely. “Yes.”

“Then what is it?” She pressed, then winced at the sensation of stretching around her wound. “Shit!”

“Watch your tongue!” Severus called out, still not looking at her. “And if you must know, your name is Hermione Granger.”

“Then why am I being called Madam Snape? And that is not a change of my name.” The witch pointed out, and resisted rubbing the now stinging burn on the back of her neck.

The professor filled a kettle and put it over heat with lips pursed in frustration. “Yes it is. I have changed your name to Hermione Granger Snape.”

At that, her eyes widened and she approached him. Her hand touched his face and with it she urged him to look at her. “Why? You could have changed it to anything.”

“Does it not please you? I can very well choose something else should you wish for it.”

“No, no, I like it. It makes me feel like…”

His hand cupped over hers and he kissed her palm before lowering it and keeping their fingers wound together. “-like yourself.” She nodded and he let go then moved back to his now boiling water. “Go on now, my pet. Handle what must be done and tea will be ready when you return. We do not have long until our first visitor arrives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the contest and also PLEASE give as much feedback as you have to offer. The more feedback I get, the faster I will be inspired to work.


	25. Her Questions & His Answers

“Fuck.” Draco sighed, struggling to find the energy to be angry with the wizard that now held a wand to his abdomen and stared at him with disgusted fury. How many times had his life been threatened the last year alone? It seemed he had been tortured or maimed or had killing curses sent in his direction every day during the war. What was one more wizard with a wand pointed at him, especially someone who he was quite sure had no plans to fatally wound him?

“Fuck? That’s it?” George snapped. “The little girl is bloody brainwashed into thinking she is a gift like a goddamn christmas sweater and all you have to say for yourself is ‘fuck’? Oh well I am sorry to have inconvenienced you during your date! Why don’t you both skip on down to the three broomsticks and rent a room for a few hours? As if this whole situation is not messed up enough!”

Malfoy raised his hands in surrender. “Please listen to me, we are not involved. We are betrothed. Call it the start of a four year _arranged_ engagement if you will. I did not pick her because I have any romantic interest or attraction. We knew each other as children and Snape made it a term of our agreement and-”

“Snape? Severus Snape wants you of all people to marry his daughter?” Weasley scoffed in disbelief and didn’t put away his wand but instead moved both hands to pulling at the roots of his hair in frustration. “Merlin, Draco, you have really fucking stepped in it this time. I could look past it when Bill converted because he was in love and it meant a lot to Fleur. And I was the first to defend Hermione when Ron and my father were carrying on about her getting married to Snape. They still aren’t talking to me but I stand by it because I understand what war does to people. I’ve seen what my family and Harry went through. There has been enough suffering. But this is crossing a line. I will not be a party to this.”

“Then don’t be. I’ll find Ivy and we will be going. The two of us do not have to be friends and I don’t know how you got it in your head that we do.” Draco tried to stalk out the door but was again forced by the shoulder back to the wall. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“I want-” George paced and grumbled to himself. “I want this not to be happening. I want my fucking brother back and want another to pull his head out of his arse to support his best friend. I want this war that is supposed to be bloody over to _feel_ like it’s fucking over and I want you to stop being an idiot! You got a second chance and you’re throwing it away. It’s like you are determined to make yourself the villain in someone else’s story.” 

The stubborn sneer on his face fell, and Draco cursed the typically fun loving wizard for choosing that moment to become serious. “I would never hurt Ivy.”

“Ha!” Weasley shook his wand around with every word. “Do you know what she told Angelina? The girl said that you were going to brand your name into her back. You were going to mark her. Do you honestly believe that it doesn’t bloody hurt?!”

“Hermione’s didn’t. I saw it. She was fine.”

The shop apron-wearing witch ran into the storage room, panting with her hands on her knees, and pointed back behind herself. “Draco, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. The clocks started to sound and she panicked. Every time I try to get hear her she-”

“Oh hell!” Malfoy strode out of the room with flared nostrils and his wand at the ready, only to be stopped in his tracks and softened by the scene in front of him. In a heap of black hair and fabric, Ivy was crouched on the floor of the shop with her hands over her ears, eyes pinched shut and shaking her head.

“What's wrong?” George put a hand on his shoulder that he shook off to go pick Ivy up off the ground and wrap under his arm with one ear pressed into his chest and the other protected under his hand.

Draco leaned down and kissed the top of her head in a way he hoped was calming her fears. “The noises and the sounds are too much. I have to get her out of here.” He turned the girl towards the door and guided her out as quickly as her feet would shuffle, grumbling obscenities when he realized there was no feasible way to cover her ears _and_ carry her out the door. They broke through the exit and down several storefronts before Draco felt he could release her. His hands rested on her shoulders and he bent down to her level while trying to remain as calm and collected as she needed him to be.

“Ivy Lane, you can open your eyes now.” The girl shook her head and he moved one palm to her cheek to run his thumb over her scrunched lid. “Come on now, be a brave girl. You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything hurt you.” Soon he saw deep gray eyes staring back at him and Draco allowed his shoulders to fall while the tension left him. “See, everything is fine. You’re alright.”

Ivy nodded dreamily in response.“I’m alright.”

The blonde wizard smiled back at her and brushed overgrown bangs out of her face. “Yes, you are.”

“Is George mad at me?” Her bottom lip quivered. “He probably thinks I don’t like his inventions.” 

“Oh no, he will be fine. It was very loud there. You did nothing wrong.” Still, that pout tore holes in his gut and he wanted nothing more than to soothe it. To brush his fingers against her plump pinkened flesh until the tremors moved from her form to his even if it lasted a lifetime. Whatever it took to take that pain away. “Come here, Ivy Lane.” Draco reached out, pulling her back into his arms and moving her with him to her feet while he stood. Slowly swaying, he whispered shushing sounds into her ears and waited to feel her rapid breaths to steady where her chest met his torso. Again, he kissed the crown of her head and was finally able to take his own deep inhale. Yes, everything was fine.

As odd as it might have looked to the outside observer, Draco felt no shame carrying her back to the castle with her head resting on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist and sighs of sleep in his ears. Without a drought or potion, Ivy had become too tired to stand when her tears ran dry. The heaviness of her body in his arms was more comforting than the wizard had thought it could be. He did not feel worry, nor stress or anger.i

In front of the fire in his sitting room, Draco coaxed the exhausted witch into eating a few bites of stew and a slice of buttered bread, forgoing her new potions that he had nearly forgotten were in his robe pocket. They were unnecessary if she was exhausted enough to fall asleep on her own, and he was certain she would return to her slumber for most of the afternoon.

“Draco, I have a question.” She yawned between bites, and took a sip of the large glass of cool water he had insisted she drink.

Unable to resist the old family habit, he moved to sit cross legged on his own side of the sofa, and nodded with a smirk on his face. He would offer the response his parents had always given him when he made that statement. It was his turn. “And I have an answer.” Draco said with a smirk and she flushed. “Go ahead, Ivy Lane.”

She seemed to think for a moment, unsure of her words, and then her small face set with determination. “Do you like me?”

At that he laughed, remembering being a third year himself. Although, thirteen was not such a terrible age for him, other than being punched in the jaw by his godfather's now wife. Oh how the world had changed. “Yes, Ivy Lane, I like you very much.” 

Her cheeks turned redder than he thought possible with such fair skin and the dark pools fell to her lap. “I mean ‘ _like’_ like me, Draco. Surely you can’t want to waste the next three or four years waiting for us to-“

Though he had known the conversation was coming, the speed in which she had wriggled under his skin had sped up the process to a ridiculous degree. This time, he blushed, which bought the wizard time to form his words into something closer to sensible. Something he hoped she could not pick apart or argue, as it would be pointless. His mind would not be changed. He would _not_ become a monster that lusted after little girls, no matter what anyone assumed of him.

“Ivy, I know what you meant.” He reached out to hold her small hand in his, hoping that somehow he could soften the blow or use the contact to will her to understand his words entirely in the way he intended them. Perhaps some suggestibility would have done him good in that moment, Draco considered, yet it was much too little and far too late. “And I meant it when I said that I like you very much. You are thirteen-“

“And eleven months.” She interrupted quickly.

“Yes, thirteen _and_ eleven months.” The young wizard chuckled. “And I am not anymore. I have gotten to be your age before, and now it is your turn. Which is why I think it is only fair that I show you that I like you in the way that you are supposed to be shown you are cared for at your age. All from a safe distance. It’s like- it’s like making a best friend. First you get introduced. Then you may go for a walk and tell the other about your favorite quidditch team or a book that you enjoy. Eventually, sometimes after a long while, people mention their families and their struggles. The stories of who you are. Still, from there it takes a very _very_ long time to trust them enough to share your real secrets. The ones you cannot tell anyone. All this can take many _many_ years, but it’s worth it, because otherwise you would never be so close to them. None of it would be the same as it would be if you put in the time. I want us to put in the time, Ivy Lane. Which means we have to take our time. We have to take our time even though I like who you are very much. Do you understand now?”

Much to his surprise she let go of his hand, returned to her plate and took a bite of her bread, seemingly comforted by his words instead of torn down. “Yes, Draco, I understand. But I have another question.”

Again, he smiled. What was it about seeing her happy that brought so many smiles to his face? Before her, had he ever actually smiled? There had been smirks. Looks of wanting and _having_ between him and Astoria. But had there been true smiles that made his cheeks ache as these did? Draco was unsure. “And I have an answer.”

“How old was Astoria when you expected more of her?” Ivy asked, seeming almost absentminded but he knew that was not the case. She was as alert as she could have been, and had caught him in the web of half truths he had spun in an effort to make his point. It had not been what he said, but what he had withheld.

 _Fuck,_ Draco nearly groaned aloud. This was _not_ his favorite question. He had started his affair with her when he was a death eater, for fucks sake! The rules were different when a dark wizard ruled them all. “It was a different situation, Ivy Lane. We were not betrothed, as I had not converted. She is in her sixth year now.”

“So, she was in her fifth year when it started. Fifteen?” It was then he recognized that he was not going to skirt under her radar. That would not stop him from trying.

Draco prepared for an argument but tried his best to keep the tone light. Maybe she did not know the kind of pot she was stirring. And of course her information was not entirely accurate. They hadn’t met at school, but at a gathering of death eater families. He remembered finding her in the kitchens of Malfoy Manor. She had been crying. “She was several months from sixteen. I was also still sixteen.” If only barely. He offered, hoping she would know what that meant. That they were _both_ under age, if only in the very beginning. Perhaps she could understand even in her limited mind how that made all the difference.

“But,” Ivy stopped and chewed the bite she had bitten off, and Draco could not help being pleased at how well she had eaten. He was doing his job, and this horrendous conversation was part of it. Even if it left him feeling like he needed to take a scalding shower to scrape off the thousands of imaginary bugs that crawled over every inch of his skin. “But, that means she was fifteen. And I’m almost fourteen… is that how people show how they feel at fifteen? Is that how you’re going to want to show me how you feel? Since you want to show me thirteen at thirteen…” 

“No, no, no.” The blond wizard floundered, stumbling over his words like they were a collection of door stops and marbles that had been spilled the entire distance of an incredibly long hallway. How could he make her understand? What words would wiggle their way into her mind? Or was he really the villain that George had told him he was trying to become? Did he have the dark temptation Kingsley had foretold waiting in the wings of his near future?

No, he would _not_ be an evil man. He was not what the surviving Weasley twin thought him to be, nor was he the second coming of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was Draco Malfoy, wizard of the redemptive light, and she was his betrothed witch. _His._ As in he was in control. In control of who she saw, how she acted and what she said. “Ivy Lane, I do not want to have this conversation with you. Please respect my wishes and talk about something else.” 

“Yes, Lord Malfoy.” She agreed quickly, and seemed unbothered by the harshness in his tone.

 _Lord Malfoy._ He quite liked the sound of that.

Draco left her in his chambers with orders to rest in her bedroom while he took a walk to the hospital wing. He had waited long enough to inquire if Madam Pomfrey had heard when the temple healers intended to bring Astoria back. She had not and he was quite frustrated when he slammed the door back to his main room and trudged towards the bottle of dark liquor he kept on his coffee table. It was never too early for a drink if no one was there to watch. The wizard plopped onto the couch and reached for the bottle, stopping when he noticed a book placed in the center of the table that had not been there before.

Their book.

He no longer wished for the drink, distracted and intrigued by whatever Ivy Lane could have decided was important to say in the twenty minutes he had been gone. Settling back, he opened the book and fell quickly into her mind. 

Oh Merlin, it was magnificent. 

Mad, without a doubt, but truly magnificent.


	26. Damnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning... discussion of punishment and dubious consent. Unfortunately, it is a very important chapter of the story that lays out a lot of information and gives fair warnings for the explicit and distressing content of the next SS/HG chapter. Reader discretion is advised.

The vials weighed heavily in his pocket and on his mind, and Severus was relieved when he could put them in the safety of his warded cabinet behind his office desk. Potter hadn’t noticed - in fact he appeared relieved while stripping the marital bed of its stainless sheets - and his own wife would be grateful for it one day. Snape had not done it for himself, but for the witch that held his heart. It was hers to do what she wished, after all. 

Sitting with his head in his hands, exhaustion and frustration threatening to overtake him, the wizard only looked up when his floo - which had quite exclusively restricted access - roared to life. His green robe adorned friend stepped out - unannounced and uninvited as usual - immediately beginning his pacing in front of the potion master’s desk.

“Severus, the time has come. After twenty years of hiding we can not afford to continue this waiting game. We have to act!” Kingsley plucked a glass orb from the table top that Snape had been using as a paper weight for a stack of student papers and began to lightly toss it in the air and catch it again while walking around the room grumbling with frustration. 

“Why now, Lord Shacklebolt? You have denied the light of the tool that is your voice for years.” Snape growled. “Something happened. Tell me what it was.”

“My children were declared fatherless on public record. I was informed of this when Genesis’s notice was not able to be delivered and was sent to Aurora here at school. Lady McGonagall was able to intercept it,” 

Snape pursed his lips. “...because your home is secret kept and the headmistress receives all ministry related mailings. The latter is a blessing.”

“Yes. I thank the light that she never saw it. My tender hearted girl.” The Minister's face fell and he sat down across from his oldest friend. “If the burden fell upon me, I could live with that. But it falls on my wives and daughters. Their names are being dragged through the mud. These witches are mine to protect and I cannot do that without standing between them and the world. Your public emergence has been well enough received, I’ve read The Daily Prophet reaction pieces this morning and can see through them all like glass. Half the commentators won’t speak ill of you because you’re a war hero and the other half won’t out of fear that you’ll use either your light or dark magic to make them disappear. Let’s use that momentum.”

Severus sighed and shook his head, willing the other wizard to understand through his fury clouded judgement. “It is too soon, Lord Shacklebolt. If we do this now, and considering the power you have, it will feel like an attack. An onslaught they had no time to prepare themselves for. If we have had this conversation once we have had it a hundred times and agreed that integration must be done very carefully as we only have but one chance to get it right.”

“You’re naive if you do not think you have power over them. Fear is powerful.”

“And yet they very well know while I could do a great many things, I have not. This must not be done with emotion, Kingsley. You are right in this, we _do_ have witches to protect as you have stated and they deserve us acting exclusively with a level head that can put their well being above all else. Their protection comes before our own lives, it is the will of the light.”

“Are you implying, Lord Snape, that my head is not level? That I would not put their safety above all else?”

“I am not implying it, but stating it. Let us speak of this again tomorrow when you have had a night of rest to reconsider. It is of course only a day after my wedding. I would like to return to my bride at some point.” Severus raised his eyebrows, challenging the wizard before him to argue that point and knowing he would not.

His furrowed brow softened and was replaced by his devilish smile. There was a part of the minister that was still a man, of course. “Oh, yes. Your blushing new bride. How did she take it?”

The potions master stiffened and shook his head with disapproval. “As well as to be expected.”

“You must give me more than that, Severus.”

“Must I? I was not informed of that policy.”

“Don’t be snide with me.” Kingsley shifted in his newly claimed chair to lean forward. “Alright, I’ll tell you something first. Fair is fair. On the eve of your wedding, I had Lysis in my bed. Just Lysis. Of her own wishes and without ceremony. Light still my beating heart, I had forgotten that in the room just across the hall is where I kept my minx. She is still who she was back when she shouldn’t have had to be. With Genesis we make love. It is sweet and mutual, and she never denies me even in the dead of night. I have no complaints. It’s just that with Lysis, I am not a man making love to his wife, but a Lord being worshipped by his marked witch.”

“I was already aware of all of this, Lord Shacklebolt. Do not forget that I am her hand tamer.” She told him everything, as she should. It was for her protection, knowing that there was always someone to intervene on her behalf should Lysis ever feel violated or that her lord was unfair. It was the same respite he offered Genesis, who often was nowhere near lucid enough to even say his name. So Severus brewed potions, if only to uphold that responsibility.

“Oh really now? Do you think Harry Potter is in the next room receiving the rundown on last night? The long dark story of you tying her to your bed posts and taking her every which way you could in any place you desired? Perhaps he has touched her bruises and bite marks then seen the ruined mattress she was taken upon when he stripped the bedsheets. He would react so well to that, wouldn’t he?”

“I was gentle.”

“I have heard you described a thousand separate ways in any place from death eater trials to the temple gardens and gentle has not once been a chosen adjective. That is why Genesis obtained the arctic winds. We figured we could at the very least give the girl a fighting chance.”

He rolled his eyes. “And we used them, thank you. They will be of more use as we go forward I assure you.”

“What is your plan?”

“My business, that’s what.” He pulled forth the stack of parchments and began scribbling.

“No, no, no. You know much better than to think that I will let it go this easily. What shall she see today? What part of the monster you _claim_ to be?” He pressed, making his disagreement known.

“Do not push me on this.”

“I resent the accusation that I would.” The elegantly robed wizard smirked and crossed his arms, settling in to wait. “I am a firm believer in the nature of truth, and that nature dictates that it will always come out one way or another.”

“Fine, if I tell you will you bloody leave?” Severus Snape gave in, slamming down his quill and sending the remaining ink all over the student essay he had been trying to grade.

“Yes.”

Again, he groaned and rubbed his eyes, careful to hold out any fingers that had fallen victim to the splatter. “The damage was not as bad as I had expected, I replenished her blood with light magic and this morning I was still able to collect three unconstituted vials for whatever may be necessary.”

“That is quite a lot. How is Hermione? How was Hermione?” He softened.

“What details could possibly interest you?” He snapped. “She was a terrified, overwhelmed, sobbing virgin who was so far gone prior to the marking that her regenerating nervous system made every movement of an expectedly painful event instead indescribable agony. And I have never been so aroused in my life, meaning I am questioning if I am actually cleansed with light or desperately delusional in the notion that I could have ever been redeemed. I loathe myself more than I ever have before. I would wish to die if it would not mean her end as well. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“If that is the truth, then yes. That is always what I ask of you, as it is what I would give in return. Albus may no longer be with us but you do still deserve counsel. It is not only our witches that require a confidant.” Kingsley did not smile or frown, lips pressed into a hard line for a few moments until he continued on with his next branch of inquiry. “Should it be of any value, know that I am not worried for your salvation.”

“It is not.”

“You did what had to be done, Severus. Surely you do not believe that damns a wizard?”

“What damns me is my nature.” Perhaps he had always known that. Maybe it had been that notion that had drawn him into the darkness all those years ago. The notion that there was never anything good within him from the moment he was born. Then again, it had also drawn him to the light. To his daughter. To his great loves.

“Your nature gives you the resilience required to be an excellent Lord for Hermione. Trust in that.” His voice was quiet, filled with anxiousness that Snape was certain his own mimicked. “What must you do today? I am assuming there are matters to address. Things forgotten in the fog of the night.”

At the recollection of their most recent interactions, the head of Slytherin house hissed. “Yes, I will need to punish her quite severely when Potter leaves. I nearly lost count of the instances of incorrect address on top of light knows what else. At least three counts of insubordination.” Kingley’s flinching at the final charges did not go unnoticed by the wizard who spoke with adequate shame.“I know your feelings on the issue and I cannot have her straying from the light in any form. She must learn to take all aspects far more seriously than she does any other rule. This is not risking expulsion or imprisonment, it is her soul. Where she will spend eternity. Basking in the light or-“

“-or lost to oblivion. I see your point. How many has she earned?”

This time he rubbed his temples, caring less of the ink when it could be hidden in his hair. “That shall depend on the implement I choose. Maybe twenty with a whip, thirty with a cane, fifty with a paddle, seventy with a belt or a hundred by hand? Perhaps all of them. Perhaps I will never stop.”

Minister Shacklebolt’s throat tightened and he rubbed it in the most subtle manner that he could manage given their close proximity. “Should Hermione require maintenance, Lord Snape, then you would not be failing her by delivering it. You would be failing her by not doing so. As you very well know, I find myself conflicted and still obligated to remind Lysis of her duties _outside_ of domesticity.”

“Of that I am also aware. She writes to me after such events.” Her handtamer had received enough letters soaked with cathartic tears and declarations of unrequited love for her Lord to paper the humiliation on every wall of his office. All were tales of pillow padded floors on bare knees, fingers running through her hair softer than she could stand eliciting the feeling of centipedes crawling across her skin, and giving pleasure to man who she knew did not want her beyond her capabilities. Why that was Lord Shacklebolt’s chosen punishment, Snape had never wanted to ask. If Lysis felt it fair, then it was not up for any wizard to decide. What could be endured was a witch’s choice. 

Of course, the wizard before him could not resist picking through his mind between the pauses, and sighed at his train of thought but chose not to answer his question. Even some right choices were impossible to explain. “The chosen one as her handtamer was a foolish concept to encourage on your part, but a smart decision on her’s. Even more so considering she was incapable of comprehending the importance of the position at the time. You have checks and balances in place to allow you to do what you feel is right. Trust them. Trust that of all people, Harry Potter will look for any reason to tear you down.”

At least that was true. “I do not mean if my wife requires it. Though until she brings forth a child of the light, it is a distinct possibility. What I am questioning is my self control. Today I will beat her, I will humiliate her and then I will fuck her. Will that be for her best interests, or for my perversions?”

For a long while, the dark skinned wizard thought with fixed somber eyes on the fireplace, not turning when he finally broke the silence to answer his friend’s question. “Neither, Lord Snape. Instead it will be for the agreement made with Miss Granger when she was a terrified school girl who wished to let her blood and punish herself with digging fingernails into her palms. You will do what you promised, which is to ensure the punishment and pain she requires to find peace is delivered not by a darkness that wishes to destroy her, but by a force that loves her. You do love her, Lord Snape. The blind could see that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I did it. I had been putting it off, but I said what had to be said. Hope you're all still with me but I understand completely if you're not.
> 
> Also, does anyone want to read the conversation between Hermione and Harry while Kingsley and Snape were talking?


	27. Safe & Sound

Without perpetuating inaccuracies or downright lies, people would say many things about Ivy Lane Malfoy by the time she reached seventeen years of age. They would say that she was both overtraveled and undersocialized as well as a fair dueler and a resistant reader. Most would agree that she was far more than appropriately educated and quite unnecessarily sheltered. Followers of the light who believed in such things, and could accept the uniqueness of the situation at hand, would say that she was an excellent marked witch, a loving mother, and devout servant of redemptive magic. Well before that age, she could have graced the cover of The Daily Prophet as the most photographed witch of all time if anyone other than a select few wizards knew such photographs existed. The rest would simply know why that was a possibility - as in who would bother documenting every moment of her life - and that was because above all else Ivy Lane Malfoy was truly, deeply, entirely, wholly and forever loved. Draco had made absolutely sure of that. And still, despite his best efforts, the near consensus would be that her story was not one of romantic gestures and a bright future. There would be no happily ever after for the eldest Snape child. At least not the version of it anyone had hoped for.

He never could have known this while sitting in front of the fireplace with his fingertips tracing over her rapidly written sentences that immaculately followed the provided lines. She wrote of her time traveling with friends during the holidays, who were really just classmates who also had no one to go home to and a guardian appointed by the school. She wrote of visiting the french temple alone in the dead of night when only elders roamed about so she could speak to the light of the sadness in her heart. The sadness that never left her. She wrote of wishing the world would swallow her whole when a fifth year classmate cornered her in a library study nook and put his hand up her skirt. And then, she wrote of three weeks of detention she received when said classmate ended up in the infirmary with a concussion and third degree burns. It was all there. The world of a girl who had been sent away to be alone for her own good.

And nothing good had come of it.

Draco wished that the pieces of information had been written hastily and rambling, as if she had lived them and not considered much about the experiences until presented with the journal. It would have been easier that way. He could have loosened the unavoidable tightening in his chest, telling himself that she was going to be alright. That his beautiful, kind, quiet, Ivy Lane was undefeated by the forces that had tried to destroy her. Unfortunately, that was not true.

Rarely had Draco read an entry or a letter that’s subject matter had undergone such a degree of analysis and consideration. Her letters were delicately written, and the events were presented as one would write an autobiographical horror story. It  _ was  _ a horror story. A story that it may just as well have been titled  _ A Soul Abandoned. _

Standing on legs that might as well have been jinxed to wobble beneath him, Draco crossed the room and pushed open the door of Ivy’s bedroom. Yes, that was certainly what it was, considering what he had just learned. Truth be told, part of him doubted she would ever again be out of his sight. That part was very nearly correct.

Draco sat on the side of her bed, listening to her soft breathing and watching the rise and fall of her back while she laid splayed out on her stomach. Long black hair fanned out over her pillow in every direction and he pushed back a lock of it that he was quite certain was tickling her nose. His hand rested on the side of her face and he fixed his eyes on her pouting lips. For an unaccounted for second, that he later would disparage himself greatly for, he wondered what it would be like to kiss them. It was only when his rational mind returned to take control that Draco remembered he  _ had _ kissed those lips before. Just once. He likely did not remember it himself, only able to imagine the way it appeared in a photograph he must have seen. Severus has posed them for a photograph shortly after Ivy was born and he recalled being encouraged to do so. It was meant to be sweet and was a rare moment where his godfather had been softened from an imposing wizard into nothing but a man. The kiss had been innocent, as it was intended. Much to his comfort, Draco was certain that would be how their next kiss would feel as well. 

Smiling to himself, Draco ran his fingers through the tangles that had formed in her hair until it was smoother and running down her back. It was dark as night and gave off the reflective sheen of moonlight over still water. Would their children have her hair? He hoped so. He hoped they would be all Ivy, as she was the most breathtaking being he had ever laid eyes on. Faces like hers were the type that men drowned to reach in raging waters and artists referred to in their long lost diaries as their muse. Draco Malfoy was certain she would be his. Was he not inspired already? What would he not give to capture this moment of her youthful face smooth from worry?

Thinking of himself and Ivy having children felt suddenly more ridiculous the longer it sat on his mind. Now that her life was no longer at risk, Draco was thrilled at the prospect of seeing Astoria round with the child he and her had created in love and passion. Who knows, they could have two or three or ten children together. Not that he  _ desired  _ that many, but it was within the realm of comprehendable possibility. That was not something he could envision for his Ivy Lane. It was not something he could imagine wishing to be true even if he lived a hundred lifetimes. No, if he were to be given one wish for his little witch, it would have been to  _ keep _ her little. Just as she was then, tired from a day at the toy shop, and never a moment forward. If anything, just far enough back to have never been made afraid of the hands of men. Draco wanted a version of her that was soothed with words that ran smoothly off his tongue and without worries for a future that would never come. It would have been perfect he was certain, just being allowed to love her exactly as he did.

Gentle.

Pure.

Beautiful.

His little witch.

Forever.

Unsure how much time he had spent staring at her, the only change being when Ivy’s long eyelids twitched and long lashes fluttered, opening sleepily to stare at him. “Draco? What are you doing here?” Her voice was horse and he summoned a glass of water for her with a quick  aguamenti.

He tapped the book on his knee and nodded with pursed lips while she drank then took the glass to set on her bedside table. “I wanted to make sure you were okay after writing this.”

Ivy cocked her head to the side before realization of what she had left him to find crossed her face. “I’m fine.” The witch turned further to sit up, flushing when she realized she had changed into her sleeping gown but slept over the covers and accepting the blanket Draco offered for her to pull up over herself. Her hands clenched it with white knuckles and she thanked him quietly.  
Draco frowned at the realization that his morning surliness had made her weary of being seen dressed in such a state and he wished he could kick himself, but instead let it go. There were other battles to fight. “I want you to know that I will never do this to you, Ivy Lane, or let anyone else. You’ve got a place by my side and no one will reach you there. Do you feel any better after resting or would you like to go back to sleep?”

She smiled and looked up at him, her previous shame nowhere to be seen, and nodded. “I feel a lot better now.” She said, and they both knew it was about more than catching up on her sleep.  
“Alright, then let’s get out of these dreary dungeons for a while.” Draco suggested, an idea popping into his head that he could not deny sounded like a perfect way to spend their afternoon together. “We’re going to check a place for something I need, then we can go have some fun.”


	28. The Wrong Far Before The Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has taken a long time to write for so many reasons. More than anything else it was heartbreaking and is surely a case of dubious consent at the absolute best. Please bare with me, as reading through this is painful every time and editing may have suffered because if it. 
> 
> Please mind the story tags.

With an air of dread surrounding him, Severus Snape abandoned the paperwork on his desk, warded his office and stalked towards his private chambers. Pausing outside the door, he fought to compose his conflicted emotional state into something more resembling resolve. Then there was a choice to make. His pet was now his wife, and he owed her more than to let any wisp of darkness fall upon the soul she had so bravely allowed him to bathe in light. Stains had been lifted, and yet the world was full of substances to sully them all over again. It was rare to even take a step in their world without encountering something that would mark a previously clean slate.

Her’s was marked.

_Oh why the hell did she have to do that?!_

Snape groaned, wishing to throw scalding words at his bride far more than wood or leather, but knew that was not an option. Lords did not yell. They did not criticize. It was not their place to do so, as raised voices were reflections of anger and anger was an embodiment of the darkness within. Discipline was intended to cleanse and cleansing was what his wife needed.  
“Madam Snape, we have things to discuss. Strip.” Severus tried not to snap at her while still maintaining a level tone, and he sat down at his chair by the fire. When Hermione attempted to take her chair, he snapped his fingers and pointed at the ground at his feet. There was no more asking in kindness, it was time for him to demand. 

“What’s wrong?” His pet asked, resting her chin on the knee of his trousers and looking up at him with eyes he wished were not so tempting to lose himself within.

Snape cleared his throat, and made a fast decision to do as the muggles said and _rip off the bandage_ so to speak. To terrify her once was far better than drawing out an anxious witch for weeks or months. It was time to not only make her know, but force her to understand.

“My pet, you have already strayed from the light by violating my commands on more occasions than I can recall since your marking last evening.” Though the wizard wished to turn his head away, he did not. Instead he raised a hand that he began running through her already tangled hair and nodded along when realization crossed her face. “I will read to you your charges and then I will deliver your punishments.”

The first tear soaked through the fabric and met his skin before she spoke. “Okay.”

_Damn her._ Quickly, he recalculated to add her most recent offenses. This would not be easy on him to deliver, and still he would not delude himself to believe that it would be any less than ten times harder on her to endure. Still, she would endure. If he had ever met a witch that could take what he had to deliver, it was her.

“You have improperly addressed me no less than fifteen times, though it could be more, and you have made verbal demands of me at least thrice.” Her hand raised to the back of her neck, clearly recalling something else she had experienced in a set of three, and Severus pursed his lips. “Yes, my pet, that is what you felt. The brand shall burn if you defy me as a reminder, and will continue to do so until I cleanse you or put your peace back where it belongs. Do you now understand the importance of following the rules that have been laid before you?”

She pushed down the urge to gasp for air, and instead settled for a fearful pant that was no more dignifying. “Yes, my Lord. I also- I touched your books again.”

_Have I married a masochist or is she simply this unable to follow simple directions?_ Nearly seething, he struggled to do more than speak through clenched teeth. It was a good thing he had settled on what the punishment would be before she had managed to infuriate him. Only small adjustments were to be made for her additional offenses. “And the charge of touching my property without my permission. Stand.”

Hermione raised on wobbling knees and Snape wasted no time securing what she was surprised to feel were soft fabric cuffs around her wrists, that he clipped into metal carabiners each with a free side. His hand grasped hers and he led her to the bed frame where he pulled her arms wide, but not taught, to meet lengths of metal chain he attached to a point on each of the foot posts and then to the open side of her clips. Quickly, the same was done to her ankles and she could not help but try to pull free from her bonds. They did not give. No, they would be no more merciful than her lord that evening.

Standing wide armed and legged like a star before him, the wizard was already sporting a throbbing erection, despite the anger that brewed within him. “Your punishment will be severe, Madam Snape. As you have already taken punishment at my hand and my belt, you will not be asked to do so at this time. That does not mean it is off the table in the future. As for strikes, you shall be receiving twenty by my paddle and ten by my cane, the next time they will be doubled. It will be painful and you shall remember your offenses.” He crossed over to his dresser and pulled out the required implements as well as a velvet bag that he poured out onto the mattress that she faced. Her doe eyes widened, taking in the described tools long enough for her lord to fetch something from his kitchen nook

“This is ginger root.” He held it up to her face and waved his wand at it until it carved into a long finger like shape with a large wide base. “Open your mouth, now.” She clearly intended to protest, but eventually did drop her jaw and allow him to push it inside to coat with her saliva. When he drew it, Hermione pinched her face at the taste and gasped when she felt him spread her cheeks and press it against her hole.

“Stop it!” She pulled away and he slapped her arse cheeks then pressed on until the tip wedged it’s way into her opening.

“It would serve you well to bite your tongue.” Snape said, trying to calm himself enough to fully insert the root into her anus with a final push. “This is going to burn like hell fire, my pet. I do hope you learn to behave yourself. Try not to clench, that makes it worse.” Wasting no more time, Severus did what he could to level his mind for the task at hand. There was no sense in drawing out her fear any longer.

First, he lifted his paddle to her cheeks, lining it up and taking a few practice strokes that stopped just shy of contact to ensure he would hit his target at the intended location with proper force. Severus needed to bruise her, not break her. Strikes one through five came on quick succession and by the writhing he was quite sure she had not listened to his instruction. “What did I tell you? Relax and we will get through this quickly.” When he brought down the paddle the next several times, and extra flick in his wrist for good measure, Severus could feel the light watching over them, guiding the wizard through what he had to force his sweet little witch to endure. Though she struggled, yelped, begged and began to bruise, Snape knew that his bride was alright. She would be fine. It was no more than she could take, while also being harsh enough to make an impression. The girl had to learn to behave.

“No, no, no!” Hermione pulled away and he grabbed her by the hips, pushing her ass outward and holding it there with one arm while smacking the polished plank of wood against her tender flesh with the speed and force required to beat the lesson into her. “Stop it, please!”

“Silence.” Severus snapped, finishing the set of twenty without looking anywhere but his angry red target. When he let the tool drop to the ground, Severus ran his hand up and down the small of his blushing bride’s back and shushed her. “It is quite alright, Hermione. You will be just fine. Only ten more.”

“Please,” Her voice broke and so did a corner of his heart as he watched the ample tears flow down her face. He was sure he was going to drown in them. “Lord, it really hurts.”

“Punishments are supposed to hurt, Hermione.” When his throat grew tight, Severus turned, refusing to let his marked witch see him conflicted. The choice had been made and he would move forward. He gathered the cane he had chosen years ago to put lovers in their place - lovers who wished to go there - and marveled only for a second or two at how much the tool’s purpose had changed. “If you are going to whine like a child upset because they were caught eating sweets before dinner, then I am going to have to show you what pain really is.” Severus cut off his sentence, turned around and lined up the cane with her arse. “Between every stroke, you are going to beg me to forgive you and plead with the light that you are not damned. Do you understand me, witch?” At that she started to sob but Hermione managed to nod her head. _Good. At least she will behave._

When the first swing of the cane cracked over her already bruised cheeks, Severus braced himself for the begging that would follow. It was what he had told her to do, and he allowed her to cry for almost a minute before bringing it down on her arse again. “Neither of those will count as the first strike unless you do what I said. Say it now or we will keep starting over.”

Hermione gasped and thrashed, the need to escape the pain the first thing on her mind. When she moved, more juices were squeezed from the ginger that penetrated her hole and she could not help but let out howling cries of self pity. “I’m sorry, my lord. Light, please forgive me.”

Snape grit his teeth, his searing anger that she continued to draw this out bubbling to the surface. “That was pitiful. I know - from years of reading your essays and tolerating your excessive hand waving - that when you are sincere you go well beyond the instructed minimum. Go again and mean it.” The cane collided with her cheeks thrice in quick succession and waited for her to give a satisfactory response. _You can do it, love_. He wished he could encourage her, tell her the words to make it all go away, but stayed silent and listened to her whining. She had to figure this out on her own. If Hermione was to break free of the darkness, she had to learn why she must fight its lure. The darkness was painful to the soul even if the body could not feel it, and he was determined to show her the damage being inflicted in a way she could comprehend.

Despite the harsh red welts forming on her arse, Hermione said nothing to attempt to bring the exercise to a fast end, and her lord watched on as she gasped for breath. His eyes stayed steady on her hiccuping between blights of wailing, concerned she was going to choke if she went deeper into hysterics. Snape wanted was to put his hand over her injuries and brush it away, but his feet held him in place. His feet, and the need to control his witch rising to the surface. She made and agreement and he was going to hold her to it just as he held himself.

“Calm yourself, _now_.” Severus’s tone was commanding, and he snapped the cane over her deep purple bruised cheeks, quickly surpassing the set of ten mid way into the twenties before he stopped and leaned in to take her chin harshly in his grasp and whisper in a sharp tone. “I hope that you understand now what it means to not follow the will of the light.” 

Hermione continued to cry, the horrific ache in her cheeks and the stabbing pain on her insides on the forefront of her mind while she was released from her bounds and placed on her knees next to the bed. Her hands were then secured again behinds her back and her lord sat on the mattress. Through her watering eyes she watched him unfasten his trousers and pull his hardening cock into his first, pumping it until it reached full mast. Severus wove his hands into her hair gently but without question and pushed her forward while he rubbed the fluids of his head against her lips. The humiliation of being covered with his arousal caused her to let out another deep sob which Snape took as an opportunity to wedge himself in her mouth. The fullness was uncomfortable and only increased when he began to draw her forward by her hair, filling her only to just before her gag reflex and then pulling back out to develop a slow shallow pace.

“There’s a good girl,” Severus smiled down at her. “Now put your teeth over your lips - yes just like that - and suck while I help you. This will make you feel much better, love.”

On her knees sucking on her lord’s cock with the lingering pains of her paddling and caning, and eyes burning with tears that would not stop flowing, Hermione could not imagine a more dreadful feeling. Her pussy ached, the relief long worn off from the arctic winds, but she was not a stupid girl. Severus would want to have sex again afterwards, and she would need oblidge. His movements inside her mouth were gentle and she gagged only twice before he stilled and poured down her throat.

“Dulcis Revelium.” He cast and knew in only an hour or so her mind would be soothed. But if that was the case, why did he loathe himself? Severus knew for a fact that he was following the rules, pushing his wife away from darkness that could consume her, but the path they walked to the right place suddenly felt wrong. The shirt collar around his throat was immediately too tight and he tugged at it, breaking off the top button with his less than gentle motion. It would have been easier to sit beside her while she wrote ten thousand lines than watching her shiver and sob from the foot of their bed.

Removing the ginger plug with a whispered incantation to stop the burning, Severus quickly released her bindings and pulled the shivering witch into his arms with the same blanket they had used so many times before wrapped around them both to trap in his body heat and give it to her. “Hermione, my love, say something, please.” Snape rocked her and rubbed his hands up and down her back. “You are safe now.”

She nodded her head into his shoulder, wiping her tears and mucus into the fabrics. “I was so scared.”

He cringed, counting the lashes in his mind for approximately four and a half seconds before he dismissed the prospect and returned to whispering sweetly into her ears. No more nitpicking for anything more than spanks with his hand. Under the new rule of Severus Snape, this was to be law. “I am terribly sorry that I frightened you. Breathe with me.”

With that declaration her cries changed audibly from those of fear to relief and he shushed her. Snape snaked his hands around to her battered cheeks and ran his fingertips over every bit welted, bruised and reddened skin, willing them to heal. He had intended to only temporarily relieve the marks, letting her sit on her nasty bruises as a reminder to behave in the future, but instead made them disappear. All that would remain was soreness when she shifted for a week or so as if she had exercised infrequently used muscles. Severus would not allow his wife to suffer this way, and vowed to never lessen his own agony regarding his egregious indiscretion. Snape would beg the light to forsake him, but never forgive himself. Some acts were absolutely unforgivable.

Unable to be ignored by himself and he was sure his bride was his throbbing erection pressed into her core. They had to consummate again to increase their chances of a successful conception. Hermione winced when he reached down and lined it up with her entrance. His hips pulsed, trying to work it in slowly, until he decided it was of little use and entered in one mutually painful thrust before setting a calm but effective pace. Stabilizing her with an arm for support, Severus reached down to rub her clitoris until her moans of discomfort were at least laced with pleasure. 

The girl’s hand snaked down to assist him and he shook his head against her. “Do not touch yourself. Only I may touch you here.”

Hermione’s hands gripped tightly on his upper arms as he thrusted into her aching flesh. Her lord’s manual stimulation brought a similar raw - but hardly pleasurable - sensation that threatened to overwhelm her and she whimpered at her efforts to contain it. “My lord-“

“Shh, pet. You will wait.” Severus sped up his thrusts and used the head of his cock to get her tender cervix used to the force a well endowed and sometimes wild lover would inflict. Coming to his own completion in that position and at such a grueling slow paced was becoming impossible. Snape lifted his bride back over to the bed, laid her down on it and reentered her. Pinning her hands to the bed with one hand and continuing pleasuring her with the over, Severus found himself with far more leverage for setting a pounding pace. “You are so tight, my pet. You are perfect.” He declared with closed eyed ecstasy. The way she enveloped him left the wizard near his release and he could hear her whimpering for her own. “Not yet. Together.” Snape increased his ministrations to elicit the noises he needed to hear to reach his own perfect orgasm and moaned when he heard them. 

The pain and overwhelming sensation were impossible to ignore. His trusts were still chafing and stabbing. The irritated flesh on her back side rubbed into the textured bedspread. Fingers on her clitoris increased in pressure and speed while she began to cry through pinched eyes. Unable to hold back any longer she fell from her heights and was relieved when he came only ten or so seconds later. Finally, they could both rest. 

“I love you, Hermione. I am so very sorry.”

She sniffled. “I know,”


	29. No Wizard’s Whore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, fairly graphic non-con. A very dark Severus chapter... or is it light?

She awoke for the second time with an ache between her legs and a matching invisible weight on her chest. His semen leaked out of her onto the bedsheets and she bit back a sob. He had taken her a total three times the day prior before she had gratefully been allowed the darkness of sleep, and then twice again in the wee hours of morning. Every one of her lord’s thrusts had been brutal, leaving her with what she could only describe as a bruising soreness in her low belly and a rolling stomach. When she gagged, holding back the nausea, the tension that reverberated through her strained into a sharp stab which caused her to gasp and gag again. 

_Oh gods, what has he done?_

Through it all, his kisses had been sweet. Severus had twirled his tongue leading a dance with her own and left her with a lingering thought that he must in turn be light on his feet. His hands had explored her body, caressing and massaging rather than the pinching and groping her girls in her dormitory had spoken of in years past. Then again, she was not being subjected to the fumbling hands of a teenage boy. Her husband and lord was an adult wizard and an experienced lover. When he touched her, it was with practiced hands that knew how to give her goosebumps and elicit sounds she had never heard from her own throat. Hermione could not distinguish if she was more grateful for the relief from pain or wounded by her body's betrayal.

He had said he loved her, but she felt broken by his touch. He had said he was sorry, but he had done it again and again until all she could reason was that it was all a lie. Perhaps she would always hurt this way. Maybe seeing and hearing and feeling everything around her while filled with the power of the light came in turn with simple pain turning into agony. She shuddered at the possibility that she was never as strong as she had thought. Until now, Hermione thought she could have simply been far too lucky for her own good. It had not prepared her for this reality. She could not imagine what she would tell Harry the next time they met.

_Harry sat beside her on the edge of the bed. It was of course the same bed she had lost her virginity in less than twelve hours before, and it was clear to Hermione that they were both remembering that at approximately the same time. Her best friend shifted, awkwardly placing what she assumed was intended to be a comforting or soothing hand on her knee. Like a switch had been flicked, her calm wound flicked to searing once again and she jerked away from his touch. Hurt green eyes widened in her direction and she mumbled an apology._

_“Hermione, what happened last night? What did Snape do to you?” His voice was hushed and patronizing, just as it had been in The Three Broomsticks only days before. “You need to tell me or I can’t help you.”_

_Tears would have pricked the corners of her eyes if Hermione had been able to pay attention to anything other than the unreasonably loud ticking of her Lord’s wall clock and the throbbing as her searing pain subsided. “I don’t need help Harry. Can you please drop it? I would rather not talk about this with you.”_

_“Why not?” The wizard demanded, seconds later growing red in the cheeks. Quickly and with quite literal movements he shook away his embarrassment. Kneeling down in front of her, effectively putting himself in her avoidant line of sight, Harry took each of her hands in one of his and held them gently. For a second, she wondered if he believed her wedding night had turned her bones to glass. “Look, I don’t think I want to hear about this any more than you want to tell me, but you picked me to do this. You asked me to be this figure in-”_

_“Handtamer.” She interjected._ _  
_  
_He cringed, recalling the gruesome nature of the task he had completed only the night before, then nodded. “Yes, that. That means that I am supposed to be the one person you can come to with anything. Not only can you tell me everything, but Snape of all people told me that you’re supposed to. If he hurt you, then you have to tell me. I am on your side. Are you safe?”_

_Hermione nodded, unable to find the words to say much else and Harry let out a sigh of relief._

_“Good, I’m glad.” He pursed his lips before meeting her gaze again. “And Snape was- ah- kind to you last night? After all the guests left?”_

_The witch pulled his hand up with hers while she used her wrist to wipe the tear from her cheek. “He was lovely, actually. Somehow he always knows the right thing to say.”_

“Hermione, come here.” Severus called from across the room where he was standing over a workbench and a bubbling cauldron. “Quickly now. I have not got all day. My classes start in one hour.” 

Hermione dragged her sore body out of the tangle of bedsheets where she had fallen asleep several hours before. When her feet hit the floor the ache and fatigue in her abdomen became even more apparent. Hermione pushed to stand and felt another pointed pain as if tender flesh had been punched within her. She whimpered as quietly as she could manage and accio-ed herself a damp rag in a futile attempt to wipe the crusty pink tinged fluids from her inner thighs. 

“Damn it all, witch, do not ignore me.” He snapped with his back to her, and the wizard notably froze when she wrapped her arms around him from behind and leaned her head on his shoulder blade.

“I’m here.”

Snape turned to her, ready to bark at her to strip the bed and clean herself up but instead froze. Her cheeks were puffy and eyes irritated and glistening. The wizard smoothed her hair back from her face where it stuck to her wet skin and used the other hand to wipe her cheeks dry. “Why don’t we get you into a bath? Does that not sound like a pleasant start to our day?”

Hermione nodded, wishing for nothing more than for the feeling of being his whore to be washed from her skin. She was dirty as a sock left under a young wizard's bed to hide his shame. The absolute least she could do is not be covered in actual evidence that she had been reduced to being used for her professor’s pleasure and she had responded to it.

“Stop that right now.” Severus snipped and pulled her into his arms. “You are no wizard’s whore and you are not in any way soiled. Nothing that you have done is shameful. You are my marked witch and I am your lord. Everything about what we have done is as the light wishes. As far as I am concerned you have never been so clean, so desirable or so lovely. Do you trust me?”

She nodded against his chest, the ache in her lower belly becoming impossible to ignore, and the twinge hit again when he lifted her just below her bum and wrapped her legs around his middle, carrying her to an already filled tub and gently placing her under the light cover of bubbles. Her lord began stripping, and by the time he was nude was sporting a large and glistening erection. At his direction she slid forward for him to sit behind her and waited while he situated himself and began moving her where he desired.

It did not surprise Hermione when she felt her hips being lifted as she was pulled backwards and his cock toying with her entrance before beginning the slow sinking through her sore flesh. A whine escaped her lips and she felt his hands feather softly over her throat and belly while gravity assisted his gently pulsating hips.

Snape groaned, wanting nothing more than to bury himself to the hilt and fuck her as roughly as he had in the night. Hermione’s own engorged flesh felt painfully tight around his cock and he could not fathom anything more glorious. Every waking moment in his mind was occupied by the never ending cravings for her and only she could satisfy him. His hand would be ineffective to reach release while she belonged to him. Severus hoped and prayed to the light that Hermione would have a long life and that meant he would have her forever.

The fuller she became, the harder she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out and begging him to stop. Hermione could feel the ever increasing pressure when he bottomed himself out, and still he had further length to force inside of her. It was not a relief when she felt herself finally sitting on his hips, as she knew the pounding was just about to begin. His movements were gentler than she had anticipated and still every sore part of her was dragged and shoved, waves of pain shocking her nerves over and over again. 

Hermione had promised herself she would not degrade herself by begging or showing weakness, but it was a promise she simply could not keep. “Severus, stop! Please, take it out.” She cried and allowed the tears to come. “Professor, you’re hurting me.”

His thrusts kept their pace but increased in force and he kissed behind her ear. “I know, pet, I know. Just a little longer. You can take it as long as you breathe.”

“No,” Hermione gasped. “I can’t.” Her hands gripped at her lord’s hold and could not budge him but managed to ignore the fire in her mark until she let go. The thrusts sped up again and she could not help the horrible sounds coming from her chest. Then he stilled under her and she felt the same familiar rolling pulse of his seed emptying inside of her. 

_Light, what is the meaning of this torment?_ Severus prayed, looking for clarity where there was none. He washed the crying witch in his arms, staying inside of her and occasionally pulsating his hips to fight gravity by pushing his semen up against the entrance to her womb.

“You were so brave, pet.” He cooed into her ear and finally rose from the water, helping her into the bath mat and drying her body and hair with a soft cotton white towel. Cursing himself, he leaned forward and spoke a spell into her ear that he knew she would not remember. “Dulcis Revelium.” Oh, the embrace of _sweet relief_. Her tense muscles relaxed under his arms and he knew her aching sex would relent. 

Severus left her in front of the fire in her robe, wearing warm socks, a tray with a sticky bun in front of her and the book she had received for their wedding in front of her. When he looked back only a second before closing the door, Hermione was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please comment. Rant, rave, scold, quiz, just do what you’ve gotta do. It helps me do what I’ve gotta do.


	30. Spared Oblivion; Unearned Eternity

It was after his morning classes and before he left to tend to his bride that Severus Snape received the unfortunate news he was going to be having lunch in the headmistresses office. He grumbled while warding his storerooms and his classroom door, none too pleased that he would have to send an elf to check on how well his spell was holding up, and continued doing so under his breath until he was nearly yanked through the door to her sitting room and tossed towards a wall. The wooden door slammed shut and was quickly locked in at least fourteen separate ways, both magical and muggle, and he was left staring into the furious glare of Minerva McGonagall, accepted by a select few to be the one and only Lady of the Light.

“What. Have. You. Done-” The older witch spoke clearly, her typically sweet Scottish brogue lowering and turning each word into another fang barred. “-To. Miss. Granger? Out with it! Tell me what you did and be  _ very  _ careful not to lie to me, Severus, or I will call Mister Potter here to open the chamber of secrets so I can send you down there and close it up for good.”

He moved to stand up and a wand was pointed at his neck, digging into the very spot from which he felt his pulse quickening under the scar of Nigini’s bite. She knew. Snape could not fathom another reason for her surprise attack. The wizard put his hands up in surrender, as his wandless spells were not nearly as practiced as she was while armed. “Minerva, put down the wand. I have no idea what you are talking about. This has to be a misunderstanding.” _Tell her, you idiot, so can get Hermione away from you._

“Do not toy with me, Severus.” Professor McGonagall said through gritted teeth with unwavering anger. “Tell me exactly why I should not throw you to the temple altar and let Kingsley perform the final severance until there is nothing left of you but a man shaped pile of irredeemable flesh. He would do it in an instant after being told the absolute irresponsibility and lack of foresight and honesty that you have shown. Perhaps at the listing of your charges, Albus’s spirit will look down upon you right alongside the light’s gaze and be returned to us in the flesh just so he has the opportunity to cast the last curse himself and throw what is left of you out onto the lawn. It would be no less than what you deserve.”

“I know. I am sor-“  _ Sorry doesn't cut it, you vile pervert! _

“Oh you do not yet know the meaning of the word sorry. How, in all of the light’s reach, did you allow this to happen? When we spoke before the term you swore to me that you had this under control!” She spat involuntarily with every outraged word, and he was far too ashamed already to feel degraded further. There was no level lower than where he had stooped. “You promised me. Does that mean nothing to you?”

Snape swallowed back hard enough for the witch to watch his adam’s apple bob and he shook his head with downcast eyes. “I swear to you, thought I did.” It was not a lie. Granted, it was not the full truth, but it was not a lie.

“Until when?” She demanded. “When did you feel yourself slipping? Tell me.”

_ Oh bugger! _ “I heard it the day I began seeing Miss Granger, but it was gone as fast as it came as it does on occasion. I had no reason to think this was any different. There were no obvious impulses until the day after Ivy returned, I believe. The episodes increased slowly and snuck up on me, Minerva. I had no more than an inkling of what was happening until the morning after her marking when it was too strong to resist.” Severus panted at the painful memories of things forgotten, judgement compromised and fuses cut much shorter than usual. “I did not know what to do. When I marked her, I was confused and disappointed that she did not scream. I think I wanted her to suffer.”

“So you did nothing? You let it have control?” Her wand hand reached under his chin and forced their eyes to meet. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you come to me if you were struggling? Couldn’t you have told me? Told Kingsley? Told Lysis? Oh Merlin, Genesis or Victor-bloody-Krum would have been a better choice than hiding it and taking it out on that girl.” Her gaze was full of tears and her voice cracking with betrayal. “Couldn’t you trust me? After all these years, do you believe I would have denied you help? I would have moved heaven and earth to stop this and you gave me no chance. How could you do this? To her. To us. I don’t understand.”

He shook despite the fact that she had lowered her wand. It was not fear for his life nor threats of temple outcast, only terror elicited by the darkness that was no longer able to be kept at bay. 

A darkness he had allowed to soil the good in his world. 

A darkness that had sunk its claws into his beautiful new bride. 

A darkness that set off the chain of events that killed the love of his life. 

A darkness that scared away a woman that he had fought so hard to save.

The very darkness that had slithered so easily under his skin when he devoted himself to The Dark Lord and took his own mark. Once he had greeted his damnation with open arms and now despite all efforts it had infected every part of his existence. 

“I thought that I could fight it on my own.” Severus confessed, allowing the agony of defeat and the true brutality of his crimes to wash over him. “I thought that being aware of it meant that I could control it. Until now, I believed that was all that was necessary to master it.”

McGonagall could no longer even attempt to look at him and turned away, holding a hand to her chest as if to cover a gaping hole that Snape knew he had torn. “Albus warned you no less than a thousand times that this could happen. Time and time again he warned that this  _ would  _ happen if you stepped out of line. And it has. When you listened to the beast by claiming Miss Granger, you may as well have invited it in as the guest honor. You are out of choices. We both know what must be done. It’s best to get on with it.”

Snape swallowed despite his bone dry mouth. “I can go to the temple now and have any wizard that happens to be there sever my ties. Or I can call upon Kingsley to do it, it is only right, then he may place his mark on Hermione over mine.”

“Ha!” She mocked laughter with frustration. “You will do no such thing and neither will he. You are not leaving the temple until you are three hundred years old and the light brings you into eternity. I will not allow you to falter after all the work we have done.”

“But you left.” He said. 

She stopped her nervous pacing. “I never left the light. I left the temple to save a man that could never love me as a wife from his obligation. The severance is from the light herself. It means oblivion. There would be no eternity for you.”

Severus put a hand on the shoulder of a witch he knew could hex him into that very same oblivion at any moment. “We both know he would have tried. Albus  _ did  _ love you, Minerva, in the manner he could. He loved you in the ways that mattered.”

Professor McGonagall patted his hand with an anxious flutter. “I know, my boy, I know. It would never have been fair for me to ask more of him. Now it is only through knowing his forgiving nature that I can see you as anything but damned. Behind the games he played he was a devout lord and he saw good in you. He saved you for a reason.” Her breath was unsteady and Snape could see that she was barely holding herself together. “So I am going to do what he would have wanted and that is for me to help you fix this. To help you keep your vows and your promises. You are going to call upon Lysis and Genesis to accompany you to the temple. I will see to Hermione.”

“No,” Severus refused her help. “My witch is my responsibility. You do not have to coddle me.”

“Oh this most certainly is not about you.” Minerva scoffed. “When that spell simmers down, she is going to have questions that only a witch is suited to answer. Thank the light herself that she will be asking me. I cannot think of anyone else that would fight for you after this atrocity. Get out of my sight before I change my mind. My wards will not permit you back on these grounds until you have paid the proper penance for your perversions. Splinching will feel like a relaxing massage compared to what you will experience if you walk through those gates with this on your shoulders.”

This time he nodded in submission to an elder Lady, her authority being law, only stopping to sheepishly ask a question that sat heavy on his mind. “Who will heal her? There is umm...  _ damage _ requiring repair.”

Minerva let out a huff of disbelief at his audacity. “That is hardly your business.”

“Is she-“ Snape was frozen by the thought and nearly could not ask it. “-is she going to leave me, Lady McGonagall?”

Again she scoffed and grit her teeth to speak through them. “No, Lord Snape, not if I have anything to say about it. Now go, I truly cannot stand to look at you a moment longer.”

Severus left wordlessly with his head down and shoulders slumped, feeling like both a scolded child and the most deplorable of criminals. He had raped his wife. There was no question as to that. Through pride and naivety he had accepted the monster and allowed it to infect him once more, thereby infecting Hermione. If the light was just he would have been struck down where he stood but he knew that she was not always just. No, the light was one thing always without failure and that was good. As Albus had told them all, anything was permissible for the greater good. Snape just could not begin to fathom what that good might possibly be

***

Minerva found the girl in front of the fireplace, absentmindedly eating a now cold pastry and hunched over a book. The book had been her gift to the happy couple with the intention it reached Miss Granger. She was sure that Severus had his copy around there somewhere but it lacked her own anonymous annotations that she had penned carefully in the margins. It was Albus’s attempt at creating a holy text for the light and she remembered fondly the years he spent writing it. Minerva had heard every page read aloud to her at least a dozen times through his drafts and revisions, and still could not quite reach the depth of understanding he had had of their faith. Sure, there were chapters that could only be called ramblings of a mad man that even she found untranslatable, but within them resided lines of wisdom only obtained by true devotion. Though he was never her lord and could never have been her lover, Albus was her partner in this life since she was seventeen years old. She would have followed that wizard anywhere. In fact, she had.

“Are you managing to make any sense of it?” McGonagall sat down beside Hermione and pointed to the book. “Four-hundred-and-three-pages and the only uncoded message I received was that ‘life is ab-“

“about choices.’ It seems he wrote that in every chapter.” Hermione interrupted, too mellow to even feel ashamed at disrespecting her former head of house. “Severus says that a lot, too. I can’t say I disagree with either of them.”

“Nor can I.” Minerva said nervously, looking at the serene Gryffindor witch that had been harmed so heinously within her castle walls. She had failed her. “Miss Granger, do you remember what happened between yourself and Lord Snape yesterday afternoon through this morning?”

She turned the page with what the headmistress observed to be shaking hands as the spell’s potency began to fade before her very eyes. “Yes.”

“And you are aware that the vows you agreed to by accepting his mark entitled your lord to those such things?” Minerva tried not to slip into the pit of despair that would do neither of them any good. “You agreed to be a womb for his children, a vessel of his pleasure and the one that sheds tears at his hand. Those vows are absolute and irrevocable.”

“I know.” Hermione’s voice cracked. “I suppose I didn’t consider the implications of them at the time.”

“That does not make his actions just.” She reached out and closed the book in Hermione’s lap, willing the witch to look at her instead of devouring the text. “Soon you are going to return to feeling as you did this morning and it may be terrifying. Your body surely needs healing so I have called upon an honorable lord to conduct it while Severus is away fighting his own demons. This may be one of the hardest things you will ever experience, but I will be right here with you, Miss Granger, and I will not let you fall.”

Tears began streaming down Hermione’s cheeks, as uncontrollable emotion was one of the side effects of the spell’s fading, and Minerva dabbed them with a handkerchief baring the Hogwarts crest. “Why?”

Professor McGonagall knew what the young witch was asking and she shook her head. “I don’t have the answers you seek, Miss Granger. All explanations I can offer are unsatisfactory and do not in any way justify what had occurred. What I can say is that just like the dark magic that was carved into you, Lord Snape has acquired his own through poor choices. I’m terribly sorry to say that there is nothing any of us can do about that.”

Hermione cupped the hand that was still dabbing at her cheek despite her dry eyes. “It’s okay.”

“No, Miss Granger.” She scolded firmly with a forced smile on her face. “What he did will  _ never  _ be okay. You do not  _ ever  _ have to forgive him. All that must happen is we move forward and we will do that together. You, myself and Severus can be a team in this and all make it through. Still, my girl, you must tell Mr Potter what has been done.”

“No.” She said, shaking her head. “Not Harry.”

“In that matter you have already made your choice and now you must live with it.” Minerva tried not to snip at the girl.

Again, Hermione refused. “Please don’t make me. I can't do it. I won’t be able to live with myself if Harry looks at me like I’m made of parchment and glass for the rest of my life.”

The headmistress sighed and nodded knowingly, remembering how difficult it could be to confide but how necessary it was within their faith. Holding on to even the smallest secrets was damaging to the soul and her little gryffindor’s could not endure anymore. “What if you told me and I extracted the memories to show Potter in the pensive. Can we try that? If only for today.”

_ If only for today… _ Snape’s voice echoed through her mind, remembering his offer for relief that she had accepted, and how her professor had held up his end of the bargain. Hermione could have walked away any time before her marking and submitted herself to being obliviated. She hadn’t. It was her choice and she was being given another. In a life where she was very nearly property, the young witch could discern that these opportunities would be few and far between.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “We can try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Minerva involves herself, I think we can all agree that things get done. I am not sure if Harry & Professor McGonagall’s chapter will be next or another of Draco and his witches.
> 
> Please comment if you can. They make my day.


	31. Through Other Eyes

Kingsley Shacklebolt ducked within the short passageway that curled, climbed, descended and landed at the Snape’s quarters and did not knock on the door. As far as he was concerned, the less movement that was required of her in her state, the better. Instead, he slowly but confidently let himself in with a soft smile on his face, as he took in the girl who he had been summoned to heal. Her eyes were puffy from crying and what he could only imagine was exhaustion. Sitting against the headboard, her knees were pulled to her chest with a white sheet draped over them that was still tucked into the bottom of the bed. Minerva had instructed the girl to put on only a warm sweater and get under the covers, and for that Kingsley was immensely grateful. He hardly had the heart to say to a witch that had experienced what Hermione endured that she must strip in front of him. Only an evil man would seek to degrade her further.

The wizard carried no medical bag, and he very quickly pulled up a chair to the foot of the bed. He took his time untucking the sheet from its place, and beckoned for Severus’s wife to come closer. “Please, scoot yourself to the bottom of the bed, Hermione. Just allow your legs to fall over the edge of the bed and I will put you where I need you. There is nothing more to fear.”

Hermione shed quiet tears that he could only discern from her uneven breathing. Still, she complied by pushing herself down and draped an arm over her eyes. He pursed his lips and nodded to himself, as it was to be expected. This had not been the first time Kingsley was called to perform such a task, given his profession, he was certain it would not be the last. Lord Shacklebolt would have given anything to have soothing words for the young witch, but he knew that such words did not exist. There were things even the words of a spell could not undo. 

Kingsley lifted the sheet back and visually assessed her injuries, wishing that he could distance himself from the cruel reality that it was Severus that had done such harm to a witch that both of them had sworn to protect since she was eleven years old. Her bruising was less extensive than he had anticipated, which unfortunately meant her injuries were primarily internal. Turning the atomized bottle over in his hands, Lord Shacklebolt could not ignore the ache in his heart at the sound of the young witch’s rapid breathing and audibly accelerated heart rate. She needed to calm down or she would deprive her already depleted body of oxygen.

He sighed, and waited in a silent room. The wizard had not intended to ask her these questions then, in fact he would have loathed himself for doing so if it had been any other witch in that same compromising position. For Hermione, he could not imagine anything more effective to distract her from the pain than helping. “Hermione, I need your assistance with something if you feel that you can give it.”

Her eyes remained shielded, and she wished she had not heard his voice. Knowing who was looking at her most intimate injuries was humiliating and she could not imagine what task he would require her to perform. All Hermione could dare hope was if she had to hold herself open in any way, that she would not feel his hands brush against her own while she did it. “Of course. Wh-what do you nee-need me to do?”

Kingsley smiled sadly and tried to keep his voice from falling victim to his guilt. This was not about him. No, this was about Severus. It was about what must be done. Speeding that process along was the only way to save Hermione for enduring this fate again. “Can you tell me what happened to the robes that Albus Dumbledore died in?” He squeezed the bulb to spray arctic winds as an external numbing agent before he began to touch her, moving her labia apart to continue his examination.

Hermione flinched at the cold and nearly pushed away from the wizard when his hands touched her but instead she clenched her hands until her nails cut into the palms of her fists and she felt the trickles of blood pooling between her fingers. The witch could not stop herself from shuddering but did not feel her eyes well up with tears. Nothing Lord Shacklebolt could do would make her more broken than she already was. When his finger tips ran over the raw blistered flesh of her clitoris, there was no pressure exerted to elicit a response and she let out a small sigh of relief. This was not Severus. He was not in the room with them, even though his scent was on her pillow. Why did she want to bury her nose in it?

“Madam Snape, can you tell me what was done with the robes that Albus Dumbledore died in? If you know.” He asked again just as calmly as before, evaluating her torn inner labia and the various friction burns alongside them. Kingsley sprayed the winds several more times in preparation, knowing his palm would be required for the task and his spells would need to seep below the tissues. “It is alright if you tell me that you don’t know, Hermione.” Her distraction was far more important than the information he sought. Even if Minerva had been too grief stricken and Severus had been a fugitive at the time, there had to have been others that knew. “Even an idea of where to start would be appreciated.”

“The house elves probably laundered them and put them away. They easily get set in routines. I think that his-“ The wizard’s entire hand cupped her sex and she feared his intruding fingers that never came, feeling foolish for her anxiousness. “-that his belongings were moved to the archives of Gryffindor tower. It’s just a warded attic. I had to-” Hermione whimpered in pain when she felt the burning heat radiate deep into her flesh, turning to warmth as the minute dragged on.

“‘-you had to‘ what, Madam Snape.” The longer he could keep her talking and not thinking about his work, the less of the experience she would remember. Or at least it had worked before. “Did you help with something? Did it have to do with moving his belongings?”

“Mhm,” She nodded and tried not to push away from the heat increase again, this time only on the surface. “Neville and I did. I set the new wards and he put up some herbs that repel pixies from nesting up there. They nest in everything and their wing dust is horrible for your lungs.”

“Then I believe thanks are in order to you both. Does the headmistress know how to take the wards down?” He asked.

Hermione shrugged. “She never asked but I suppose she could figure it out or ask if she ever needed something up there. Bringing it up seemed morbid. Like reducing Dumbledore to his things.”

Kingsley did not pull his focus from his work, eyes closed and teeth biting on his lower lip to enhance concentration. Broken capillaries were reconnected and blood rose from the tissues but remained under her skin instead of being vanished. Raised welts lost their color but did not retreat and he felt the pull of tissues straining to knit back together again. Unless he wanted to leave her with crooked scars and blood blisters, he needed more power. “Give me your hand, Madam Snape.”

Following Kingsley’s direction almost instinctively - his voice holding the same authority that it had during the war - Hermione reached down and felt his fingers thread with her own. Soon the heat became scalding, hitting a new peak before dissipating into nothing. Her hand was released and she was lucky to be already in bed with the wave of dizziness that overtook her. 

“Thank you. I needed a bit of a boost there. Witches of the light can willingly give lords access to their magic for a limited time. We’re going to take a break, now. I’ll get you some water.” He stood and found in Severus’s kitchenette a spelled glass that would not spill on her face so she could drink while laying down. Giving it to bed, he sat at the foot of the bed again, instead working on the superficial bruising from Severus’s hard grip on her thighs and hips. After all the intimate places Kingsley had touched her before, Hermione did not even seem to notice. “Will you take me to the archives, after you’re feeling better and have gotten some rest?”

“Sure, I wi-“

“My wife most certainly will not be taking you anywhere anytime soon. If someone must then I will go.” The sudden slamming of the door startled him out of his concentration and Kingsley pulled away. It was far preferable having to return to finish the task than to start over or cause more harm. “Lord Shacklebolt, you will remove yourself from any position where you can not only continue to see but also violate my witch.”

The furious voice sent Hermione’s blood running cold and she pulled the sheet up over her head. Perhaps it was childish, but at that moment she did not care. It was appropriate to hide as if he was the monster in her closet, she reasoned, as he would likely haunt her nightmares for a very long time.

Kingsley kept his tone level and as impartial as he could bear, when all he was envisioning was putting a hand around Lord Snape’s throat and slamming his head into a stone wall just hard enough to hear a crack. Of stone or skull, he did not know. It would depend on if the first satisfied him. “Have you begun your penance, Severus?”

“I would not have been allowed onto the grounds if I had not.” Snape answered, and flicked his wand to push the chair Kingsley sat in away from the foot of the bed, taking the minister with it. In a sweep of black robes, he stalked across the room, sat down by her head and lowered his voice into the sweet whispers she remembered from their wedding night. Why did they bring her the same comfort? “Hermione, love, scoot back for me. Lay so that you are comfortable.” Her racing heart was soon pounding in her ears but he watched her move while he willed their connection to be weak. Even if she had not obeyed, her mark would not have burned. “Now lower the sheet. I wish to see my beautiful wife. And Kingsley? Your services are no longer required. You may go.”

“Lord Snape, you should not be the one to do this. Neither of you are ready.”

“Were my words unclear?” Severus seethed and tried to keep the venom in his voice. His darling wife did not need to be any more upset than she already was. “You will leave now.”

“Are you in control?” The minister asked from the doorway, knowing that if his invitation was revoked and he did not leave, he would have to pay his own penance. If not to the light he worshipped, then to his wives. They did not appreciate when their work was doubted. Neither Genesis or Lysis had ever failed at calming Severus’s demons. They had all been down this road before. _Poor Lorna._

Snape nodded, pulling back the sheet when she refused to uncover herself and looking into her swollen red cheeks and bloodshot eyes. “Yes, I am perfectly in control. I do not believe I have ever been more in control in my entire life.”

The door closed behind them and locked at Severus’s flick of a wand. He stowed it away in his pocket and used his near hand to caress her cheek, not allowing it to sting his ego when she flinched before giving in to his touch. His other hand followed down the curvature of her body slowly but firmly. It was not fair to startle her. He bunched up the fabric at her waist and used his fingers to part her lips. Severus began to press two fingers within her heat, wishing that he had more lubrication to facilitate entry and knowing that no such lubrication existed that was not a fertility potion. Any muggle product or other potion would inhibit the magic from properly knitting together her tissues. A fertility potion without prompt intercourse would cause side effects far worse than the injuries he was healing.

“Please,” Hermione begged, no pride remaining. All she could wish for was for him to stop. The pain was second on her mind, far beyond her fear. Fear that this was not to heal, but an attempt to arouse, and the knowledge could not say no without violating her marking vows taunted her. She could envision his thumb returning to rub her bundle of nerves raw while he pumped his fingers and then himself in and out of her still battered body and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

At her plea he had frozen, and he stayed quiet while he waited for her to accommodate. Bracing for the onslaught of impulses to push another finger into her torn opening and force them all into her depths, Snape was relieved when it never came. While it would not last forever, his darkness had been defeated in battle. It would only be a matter of time, though he did not know how long that time may be, before it returned for vengeance. He would need far greater help than any witch or wizard walking among them could offer if he planned to win the war. 

When her soft sounds of anguish ceased, Severus leaned in close to her ear and pressed his cheek to her own. “Everything is fine. I am going to take your pain away.” Her trembling lower lip broke what was left of his withered heart and even the penance he had taken on felt insufficient for destroying her trust. He was certain that it would never be repaired even with eternity in front of them. It took little more effort than it had on their wedding night to heal her wounds, as his body was attuned to hers, and he quickly cleaned both of them up with little thought to his task. All he had wanted for the last twelve hours was to hold her. Snape wrapped several blankets around his bride and pulled her into his arms, shushing sounds she had not made when he was not kissing the unruly hair upon her head. “What can I do for you? Do you need absolutely anything? Tell me and it is yours.”

Hermione shook her head, and nearly gave in to the tears when she realized how much she had missed his touch. After the horrific tortures she had endured at his hand, Severus still warmed her chilled bones with his voice and made her racing heart finally calm with his touch. Her hand grasped desperately at the fabric on his chest as if she was hanging on for dear life. How had he so quickly slithered his way under every inch of her skin? Had the term not begun nearly three weeks before? Wasn’t it on the first day of class when he ordered her to strip in his classroom and healed her self inflicted wounds? She knew that her mind was fuzzy and her magic was nearly as drained as she was. Perhaps she lost more time than she had realized.

“Tell me what day it is.” Hermione said, her eyes fluttering shut. There was something important coming up, but she couldn’t remember what it was.

Severus pushed the hair from her face and placed his lips on her forehead, testing her temperature and deciding it was close enough for all she had been through. “September 18th.”

“Oh,” She mumbled, shivering and nuzzling in closer to his body heat. Her lord’s arms constricted around her and continued to rock.

“Why do you ask?”

“No important reason.” This time he could barely make out her words and she transitioned quickly into the soft sighs of much deserved sleep.

He closed his own eyes, resolving to ask when she woke. “I am so terribly sorry, my pet.”

The door latched shut once more and his eyes snapped to attention, trying not to jostle his sleeping bride. In front of him stood the only other wizard impervious to his wards and whose invitation to wherever he and his wife resided was forever irrevocable. He was Hermione’s hand tamer and Severus was quite sure was the wizard that would one day kill him. Harry-fucking-Potter.

They locked eyes and Harry’s nostrils flared at the broken man. “She asked because tomorrow is her nineteenth birthday, you arse.” Harry gripped his wand with white knuckles and Severus reached for his own, ready to defend her to the bitter end.

Severus had not known the significance of the day. Was it because she had never told him or he had never asked? “Before you give me exactly what I deserve, know that if I die then she dies as well.”

The boy forced into manhood gave him a curt nod and all Severus could think was that he was far too damn lucky to leave the world looking into Lily’s eyes and knowing that his beloved Hermione would not be aware of their deaths until they were in eternity together. It was an end far better than what he deserved

“I know. Professor McGonagall and Kingsley told me.” Still he gripped his wand just as tightly. Snape curled himself around her sleeping form and gave her one last kiss out of fear her lips would feel differently on the other side. “No, Snape, I’m not here to kill you.”

 _He’s not?_ “Why? I certainly deserve it.”

“Yes, you do.” Potter approached where they laid vulnerable in their bed, standing only feet away and looking down on him. “But no, I won’t kill you. But I will feel no remorse in keeping you under the cruciatus for as long as I can stand it if she is ever harmed again. If it means landing myself in Askaban to do so then I will pay that price. For now, I can settle with the knowledge that what you have done will torment you for the rest of your life.”

Snape nodded once in agreement. He would never forget. “Every day for the rest of this life _and_ eternity, I will punish myself for letting my darkness infect the witch that trusted me unquestionably. I promise to never forget the look on her face.”

“You see, that’s not good enough for me.” Potter sat on the side of the bed, the mattress dipping down next to them with a cool calm surrounding him. “I know what your church believes is proper punishment. That it is called a penance and is chosen to prevent an act from ever happening again. Self help I suppose, which sounds like a load of rubbish to me. And quite honestly you don’t deserve to ever see her face again. She is too smart and kind and pure for whatever you are. I won’t accept _you_ remembering what _you_ saw and deciding to pity yourself for how it makes _you_ feel. This isn’t about you, Snape.

“See, my friend Fred Weasley - I’m sure you remember him since he died trying to defeat the cause you allowed to rise twenty years ago - well he showed me a little spell that I think comes in handy to resolve problems like ours. He and George used to use it to cheat off of Angelina Johnson’s study habits during their own tests. So instead of wallowing in your own angst, you are going to remember what _your_ face looked like to her. You will know exactly the pain and terror that she felt. You will see what she saw. It will be a memory that can never be obliviated even if you beg for mercy. _That_ is justice.” Harry lifted his wand and, for the first time since he entered, Severus noticed the white memory floating around the tip. It was not flowy and majestic but sputtering and turning as translucent as possible as if to hide itself from predators. It was Hermione’s memory. “Alias Oculos.”

Severus nodded with approval in the moment before the memories overtook him. “Through other eyes.”

Harry waited a long moment, putting a hand on Hermione’s hip just to comfort and ground himself. It would not take long for the memory to play in the wizard’s mind and he found himself experiencing profound satisfaction at the way Snape’s features twisted in agony. Unfortunately, all too soon they relaxed into what was only describable as peace and his black eyes set with determination. “Raise your wand, Potter.”

Severus’s raised his own wand but cast no spell. “Why?” Harry asked.

“Because I am going to give you the eternal glory of being bathed in the light. The muggles would refer to it as a baptism I suppose. If you trusted Albus Dumbledore then trust that you want this. Come on now, it comes with a gift. Call it a welcoming present.”

For reasons he would never know, something deep inside him believed Snape’s words to be true. Harry lifted his wand and held it parallel to that of the wizard before him. He had been told of the oath Ronald saw take place at Bill and Fleur’s wedding before she was marked and knew that they would cross them like swords meeting blades when the ceremony was complete. “What gift is that?”

A sneer spread across the potion master’s face that made Hermione shutter in her sleep. “Did you know that Kingsley loathes himself? For his first wife, he asked me to be her handtamer because he was in love with her and his line of work as an auror often put him in grave danger. He knew I could care for her in his absence. When it came to his second wife, Kingsley fell to the pleasures of the flesh before her marking. So he had her ask me and made me promise if he ever put himself before her again, that I would protect her by killing him. Do you know why it mattered? Because if a witch’s handtamer is a lord of the light, she will live even if her lord dies. If you take the light, you would not just be able to torture me, though I do ask that you take your sweet time with that. No, you would also be free to kill me. Please make sure I suffer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what do you think Snape’s penance was?


	32. Drinking Her In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy time warning. Figured we all could use a break from the stress.

Draco Malfoy had no delusions about his addiction. His cravings could set in at any moment of the day or night and he was helpless to resist them. Anytime he could get his hands on what he so desperately needed to survive, the wizard might as well have been disarmed and bound with his hands behind his back. There was no defeating the need for his thirst to be quenched. Relief lasted hours, not days, and he could have sworn his bones ached at even the thought of withdrawal.

How would he ever stand it? How had he managed to survive so long without the bliss he had once reached? What about the release of being both weightless and strong enough to shatter stone? When would it end? Would the insatiable need last forever?

_ Yes _ , He assured himself, as every time had been just like the first. Draco developed no tolerance with time. If anything his inhibitions were only lowered the further he fell into his insanity.

The smell.

The taste.

The heavenly warmth over every inch of his skin.

_ Astoria. _

Her sweet slithering tongue tousled with his inside their mouths and the heat of her sex pressed against his hips sent Draco into moans of pure ecstasy. The scent of her hair made him wish he could cocoon himself inside it until he died of suffocation. His hands gripped her round firm cheeks and Draco dug his nails in just to hear her yelp with surprise and purr with pleasure. White panties tore under his grasp and he laid over her with his fingers stroking her walls and watched her rapid breathing while listening to the beautiful music of her moans. 

Breathlessly, Draco leaned into her ear and could not hold back from smiling like a man mad with power. “That’s it, baby girl. Come for Daddy.”

“Draco,” Her voice grew shrill and he stroked his ego with the same fingers he used to send her falling down the rabbit hole. When he was touching Astoria, he was not bound by the ghosts of his past or the duties of his future. There was only her body and his.

_ Will I ever get enough of her?  _ Draco thought and knew the answer was no. They could stay between his bedsheets until the world ended and no time touching her would be enough to satisfy the cravings that overcame him the moment she had come back into reach.

“Faster, please. I need more” Astoria gasped out between trills of pleasure. He was all too happy to indulge her requests.

Draco snickered and longed to taste the beads of sweat that dripped across her forehead, so he indulged. Who was going to stop him? “Oh, you want it faster? Harder? More of me? I suppose Daddy can’t say no when his baby girl is so very polite.”

Picking up the pace as he promised, the small corner of his brain not acting on the instinct to be entirely intoxicated by her had questions without answers. Was it day? Was it night? How could the vibrations of their lovemaking not be felt by every witch or wizard that had ever lived? It simply could not be explained unless they were the only beings in the universe, and his memory could not refute that. All Draco could recall was the witch in his arms and the warmth of being inside of her.

“Mine,” Draco growled and sank his teeth into her shoulder, his ministrations not ceasing when she clawed his back for both release and more contact. He moaned into Astoria’s skin and flipped her over, hoisting his witch onto all fours and grabbing her hips to pull to his own, sinking in with one slick fluid thrust. None of it phased her, their bodies pieces of a puzzle that could only ever fit one another. “Say that you’re mine.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Astoria gasped between the waves of pleasure washing over her and sending his witch out to sea. “I’m yours.”

“So fucking beautiful.” He fisted her strawberry locks in his hand, twisting around twice as a handle and arching her back as he tugged to watch the pinching of her eyes and the teeth baring smile on her face. “Mine. All mine.”

Panting beside each other in a bedroom smelling of only sex, Draco was certain that this was the eternity the other lords talked about. He could imagine no better place than tangled in white sheets with his cock coated in Astoria’s arousal and the knowledge that he had claimed her in the most primal way. Even though he felt as if he would be pulled into the earth if he tried to lift a finger, exhausted on every level imaginable, he continued to massage whatever parts of her that he could reach. His tongue flicked over her nipple and he suckled at her breast like a man dying in the desert. It was not far from the truth. Draco was certain he would turn to dust and blow away if his mouth left her skin.

“I love you.” He gasped, coming up for air and trailing his kisses across her neck. “I love you. I love you. I love you, Astoria.”

“Mmm,” She leaned into his touch. “I love you too.”

“I have never needed anything-“ His lips reached her’s before pulling back to stare at the perfect shade of pink that flushed her sun kissed skin. “-more that I need you. You are my poison and my antidote. I just can’t stop-“

“-drinking me in? Over and over?” Astoria giggled, his post orgasmic praises all too familiar and still able to make her giddy. “Then do it.”

“Astoria, I want you-” 

Her laughter was like a song that went on for lifetimes and still he could not stand for it to end. “You already have me, Draco.” His hand grazed possessively over the small protruding bump between her hip bones. She was right, he had already rooted his love and lust as deep as it would go. Everyone could see. Everyone would know that she was his and he was her’s. It still would not stop him from trying. 

“Mine,” He snarled again, and began to lap at her neck to savor the moisture that dripped down from her dampened hair. “I meant that I want you  _ again. _ ”

Astoria pulled him back and smiled sweetly. How could someone who was leaking loads of his essence onto their nearly drenched bed sheets look so angelic? “As much as I would love to say here, the world keeps turning.”

“Psssh,” Draco latched back onto her nipple and mumbled into her breast. “What in this pointless world could possibly need us, right this moment?”

“Well, I just heard Ivy’s tap turn off so I’m assuming that she will be headed this way soon.” She said. Time stopped, reality racing towards his frozen form faster than he could blink.

_ Ivy Lane. _

All of the sudden, the smell of sex in the air made him nauseous and Draco did all he could to separate the witches in his life into boxes that could hold the uncontainable. His Ivy Lane did not belong amongst lustful thoughts even just as a name spoken in reference and every flash of memory that came back to him confirmed that. Only the day before he had spent hours pushing her on a swing that he had strung up to a tree near the water. They had gone for a swim and came back to his rooms to sip hot chocolate to remove the chill from their bones. Draco read to her from The Tales Of Beedle Bard despite the fact that he could not stand the sound of his own voice. When Astoria finally came home, Draco carried a sleeping Ivy to bed and kissed her goodnight on top of her head. Where as his appetites for Astoria could never be curbed - the more of her he had the more of her he wanted - those sweet stolen kisses while he tucked Ivy in at night were perfect enough to last a lifetime.

“Come on, get up. We have to get ready as well.” Astoria managed to wiggle out from under him and bopped Draco on the head with a decorative pillow that had been tossed to the ground in their feverish need to trid one another of their clothes. “Get up, lazy bones. Just because you don’t have classes on Wednesday’s doesn’t mean you can sleep the day away.”

He rubbed his eyes, knowing the bags under them would be as visible to the world as her swollen lips. “Why not? It’s not like we did much sleeping last night.”

“You, Draco Malfoy, underestimate the danger of keeping two hungry witches from their breakfast. Especially when one of them is-” She pointed a manicured finger at her belly and smirked. 

Draco stood up, unable to keep a smile off of his face, and slowly found his balance. “I suppose you should have thought of that.” He teased, wrapping his arms around her. “I distinctly remember you moaning in my ear - more than one occasion - that you needed me to  _ claim you like a bitch in heat  _ and  _ make them know who you belonged to _ . Does any of that ring a bell, love?”

“I recall you being more than willing to oblige.” She said. “And oblige and oblige and oblige.”

“Ha, it’s a bloody wonder it caught us by surprise.” Draco said, stepping under the warm cascading water with Astoria still in his arms. He found a luffa and washed her with perfumed soaps, paying special attention to where her fluids had created sticky residue between her legs and all the various body parts his own had been deposited onto throughout the night. She moaned and leaned back into him as he lathered shampoo through her hair and massaged her scalp with his fingertips until she was very nearly mewing with appreciation. It was far more relaxing to later rinse and condition, running his fingers through to work it into every strand and untangle the rats nest he had created by shagging her into the mattress. At her thanks and praise Draco replied, “It is the very least I can do.”

When it came time to tend to himself, it was a much shorter affair that thankfully did not involve the need to shamefully jack himself off to the memory of her mouth. Draco dried her first and then himself, and brushed his teeth while she rubbed lotions and moisturizing oils into her already supple skin.

“I bought more of those, by the way. A double order.” He checked his teeth in the mirror and ran a comb through his wet hair.

“Oh,” Astoria opened her drawer and rummaged through finding a new bottle of each. “Where are the second ones, then?”

_ Shit.  _ Draco cursed himself, not looking to sow the seeds of jealousy before even their first meal together. He had yet to ask her what he needed help with. “I meant that I bought some for Ivy Lane as well. They’re in her bathroom. I don’t think your skin can get any softer.”

Hesitantly she closed the drawer and took off her dressing robe, replacing it with lacy underthings that Draco considered reminding her he sure-as-shit was not going to be buying anyone else anytime soon. No, not for the rest of his life.

“I see.”

_ Oh Merlin…  _ Draco began to get himself dressed as well, Astoria and himself moving back to the bedroom and handing each other things from the wardrobe and trunk respectively. They were no less seamlessly in sync than they were before her departure. 

“Astoria, love, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind showing Ivy how to use the bath oils and such?” He raised an eyebrow and smiled at her while they buttoned one another’s white uniform shirts. “It would be inappropriate for me to do so.” Draco prayed he would not be asked why he purchased them for Ivy as well. It certainly was not as if he intended on touching her, only that she also deserved nice things.

“Agreed. I think I can manage that.” She forced a smile and slipped into her shoes. “Why are you even getting dressed in your uniform? Last year you just stayed here and studied when you had a day off.”

Draco suppressed a sigh and shrugged into his robes. “First, I’m Head Boy this year. Second, I’m going to collect and complete my assignments from the last few days while I take Ivy to her classes. It’s her first day back to class, and she’s never attended Hogwarts before. When she’s scared she’s prone to… outbursts. I wanted to be on hand, just in case.” 

“I’d forgotten that.” Astoria cast her eyes to the floor and stayed seated on the side of the bed, playing with the zipper pull on her skirt.

“Hey now,” He knelt in front of her and allowed his frustrations to mask as reassurance. “you know how much I love you. Tell me, before I go out there, is there anything that you need? Anything at all?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Draco brushed back her overgrown bangs to tuck behind her ear. “Potions? Parchment? Money? Do you have all your books? Are your medical excuses signed? My godfather wouldn’t mind.”  _ Fine, he will, but she doesn’t have to know that.  _ “He knows you never quite made it back to classes at the start of term.”

Astoria shook her head again and accepted his unnecessary help to her feet. “Really, I’m fine. The healers sent me with some nausea relief and pregnancy safe invigoration droughts, I got my books at the start of term, and McGonagall signed my notes as well. They’re all in my bag. Don’t worry about me.”

_ Don’t be like that.  _ He rolled his eyes, managing to keep his protest to himself. It was hardly fair to tell her what to feel about the mess he had made. “I will always worry about you.”

At this she could not resist smiling at him, and he committed it to memory to get him through the day. “Right now, I’m worried that none of us will have time for breakfast if we don’t get going to the great hall.” This time Astoria dragged him to the door and out into their living space, the smell and sight of breakfast laid out at the table a pleasant surprise for the witch. “Why is this here?”

“Oh, um, Ivy and I have been taking meals here since she arrived. I figured we could keep doing so until everyone is properly acquainted.” He felt heat rise to his cheeks and noticed the black haired little witch pouring them all tea and smiling shyly. “Astoria, this is Ivy Lane.”

His witches studied one another for a moment or two, neither of their assessments appearing critical, only curious. The first to finish was Ivy, who looked past Astoria for his reassurance and Draco nodded to her once in approval.  _ You’re doing so well, little one _ . With newfound confidence, she extended a pale hand forward in introduction and Astoria placed her’s hesitantly in Ivy’s grasp. Neither of them shook, and he thought they were each waiting for the other to make the first move. However, upon further reflection, he could not recall Ivy or any of the Shacklebolt girls ever shaking any hand they held. It was not in their customs to do so. And if he knew anything about the witch that held him to the earth like gravity, Astoria had done her own covert research while being treated at the temple.

“It is lovely to meet you, Astoria.” Ivy’s voice stayed timid, hesitant to displease, and Draco hoped to coax some confidence from her with time.

When Astoria didn’t answer, he placed a hand on the small of her back for encouragement he knew she also needed. “I’m sure the two of you will soon be fast friends. Let’s eat before breakfast gets cold.” Draco gestured towards the table and they both walked slowly to their meal. Ivy sat down before he could pull out her chair and Astoria waited for him to do so, neither of them eating until he was seated as well.

Breakfast started relatively quietly, his prompting required to get either of them to ask for anything out of reach, and Draco kept an eye on Ivy’s plate. Astoria very rarely required him to say anything about her eating habits, while he knew that Ivy was always ready with an excuse. When her mouth opened to protest him scooping scrambled eggs onto her plate, he was prepared. “They’re quail. I let the kitchens know.”

“Thank you.” She smiled to herself and ate them willingly between bites of blackberry jam covered toast and crispy bacon.  
Astoria preferred untoasted muffins with strawberry preserves, chicken’s eggs over medium and sausage patties - not links. Everything he had asked to be delivered that morning was deliberate, and he ate a variety of both to - perhaps unnecessarily - appear neutral. There was little reason to suggest he would be accused of favoritism based on the breakfast foods he consumed but he would not take the chance.

No, Draco would leave absolutely none of it to chance.


	33. There Was No Wine

“Mister Malfoy, as you are not in need of fourth year arithmancy instruction, I suggest you come with me.” The headmistress said from the doorway, startling him from his focus on the back of Ivy’s head. “She will be fine for one class period without you. Come along.”

Draco quickly shoved his books and parchments into his bag, less upset than he would have been if they were not just props to make it less obvious he was just staring at Ivy all day and waiting for something to wrong. Though she was over half a century his senior, Professor McGonagall made it difficult for him to keep up with her as they made their way to her office. Up the winding stairs and through her doorway, Draco had expected to be scolded about accompanying Ivy to her classes, but was instead greeted with silence. What he had not expected was to see the minister of magic leaning on one arm against the mantle above the fireplace and his wives seated at a loveseat nearby huddling together like fearful children. All faces in the room were troubled, and McGonagall’s typically pursed lips had new meaning when he saw the pain in her eyes.

“What’s going on?” He asked, and noted the obvious absence from the room. “Where is Severus?” No one spoke for a time. He begged Lysis to give him answers, but she shook her head and tried not to make eye contact.

Quiet as a mouse, the first to gain courage to speak was a voice he had not heard ever before, belonging to a beautifully terrifying witch that Draco knew was the apple of Kingsley’s eye. “My lord had decided to approve your petition now.” Genesis told him, her ghostly white hand reaching out to hold his own with a motherly touch to rival his own. “It is time, young Lord Malfoy.”

He gaped at the silent wizard, but held on to Genesis for dear life. “Why, Kingsley? What happened to waiting three months?”

Professor McGonagall put a hand on his upper arm, rubbing gently in a nervous motion that he shrugged off, knowing it far more likely to be for her comfort than his own. “The circumstances have changed, Mister Malfoy, and Lord Shacklebolt has amended his decision accordingly.” Draco noted that neither of these answers were coming from the wizard he had demanded them of.

“Please, tell me what’s going on.” He said.

Lord Shacklebolt looked past him with a general numbness that Draco had seen in his own reflection after the first death eater gathering he had attended. What horrors had the minister seen? What did they all know that he did not? Shaking his head in apology, Kingsley took out the scroll he must have collected from Draco’s own rooms and quickly spelled his magical signature across it along with an irrefutable stamp of approval. “Sign.” Was all he said, gesturing to Draco’s own wand.

“I will, just please tell me why.” He pleaded, looking at the document he had written that declared he was to take immediate full guardianship of Ivy Lane, but he stopped when the reason had been changed in handwriting that was not his own but suspiciously familiar. “ _-on grounds of her bride service having been paid in full on September 18, 1998 via Gringotts transfer between the account of Draco Lucius Malfoy to that of Severus Tobias Snape in the amount of_ ** _one hundred eighteen thousand, seven hundred and two_** _galleons._ What the fuck is this? I’m not going to buy her like livestock. Someone needs to tell me exactly what the hell is going on.” 

“Language.” Lysis scolded with less than half her usual spirit, worrying him far worse than the rest of their surly attitudes. “Draco, there is no other choice. This has to be filed today and we didn’t have any other options on such short notice. The fastest way to have this processed with minimal questioning is through the financial department and Severus agrees with Kingsley that this is a fair amount. Please believe me when I say that this is absolutely necessary for Ivy’s safety and well being.”

He reached the bottom of the document, and saw there was already another signature at the bottom from a line added below his own. “Severus signed her away just like that? She means less than money to him.”

“Lord Snape did not come to this decision with ease, Mister Malfoy, I assure you.” McGonagall’s voice shook with nervousness. “He has been made to see that it is in her best interest to be entrusted into your care. This is the most inconspicuous as well as uncontestable method of achieving that.”

“What do you mean by _made to see_?” Draco stressed through clenched teeth.

Lysis allowed one tear to fall and sniffled with determination set on her face. “I would love to tell you but I quite literally can’t. Please trust me, Draco. Have I ever lied to you?”

“No, you haven’t.” He said, and nodded towards the paper. If he could trust any of them absolutely, it was Lysis. “What are his terms? Can I see them?” Draco was no stranger to the concept of bride services given that he was a pureblood, and knew that Genesis had been traded for a hefty sum that later was said to be counterfeit. 

Kingsley handed him a second parchment, detailing only half a dozen seemingly petty terms written by his godfather. All he could discern was that Snape wanted her to be financially supported, kept in the church and marked no time before her fifteenth birthday or after the eve of her seventeenth. Her name was also to be legally changed immediately from Ivy Vortrula Snape to Ivy Lane Malfoy. Every line read like the deed to an estate, not the life of a daughter that Draco knew had given Severus his reason to live.  
“This is ridiculous. Please, tell me it was forged. He never wanted her forced into anything she didn’t want to do. He always said it was her choice! Who does he think I am, some power hungry prick that wants to marry a child?” He huffed, wishing he could reach the desk to throw everything he could reach off of it. The tension that spread through every inch of his body was threatening to boil over.

“Breathe slowly, dear.” The hand that held his squeezed and a mouse quiet voice accompanied by piercing blue eyes staring into his own tried to reassure him. “Absolutely not, Lord Malfoy. He only agreed to this based on the knowledge that no one will take better care of his daughter than you will. There is a small but distinct possibility that Lord Snape will not be fit to do so for a period of time. All any of us want is for her to be safe.”

Steadying himself, his wand hand shaking, Draco exhaled as slowly as he could. “This is it.” He said to no one but himself, as his signature flowed across the page with the Malfoy crest appearing beside it moments later.

“The crest is indicative of the transfer order having been received by Gringotts.” Kingsley said, breaking his silence. “When the Prince crest is shown it will signify the full amount reaching the Snape family vault. Typically, the father would send it off to the ministry with his owl to verify authenticity. However, it appears it would be in all parties best interest if I hand delivered it. Miss Malfoy will be allowed to finish this day’s classes and then will be suspended until the board of governors receives word that this has occurred. They will owl you the paperwork to re-enroll her. In a week, the ministry will send notice of a thousand galleon fine for failure to consummate the marriage. Lady McGonagall will intercept it, at which time the temple will file a religious exemption on your behalf. A court appearance may be required but it is only a formality. They have no grounds nor precedence on which to deny it, and they will not try to make an example out of you as long as you pay the fine and grease their pockets a bit. Good day, Lord Malfoy. May the light shine upon you always.” The legalities had outlined without emotion, like he too saw this as nothing more than a contractual obligation. Kingsley exited the headmistress’s office without another word or glance and both of his wives followed suit. Neither looked at Draco and Genesis let go of his hand reluctantly, trailing it behind her in his direction until the door closed separating them.

Wordlessly, Professor McGonagall sat him down in the chair across from her desk and left to fetch what he figured would be tea and biscuits. Instead, three fingers of brandy in a heavy glass were placed in his hand, and she brought herself the same with a full bottle placed between them. Both had many things they needed to forget. 

“I am sure you have questions, Mister Malfoy.” Minerva said after a while. “Truthfully, I do not give a two-headed weasel’s arse what the temple dictates must stay between a wizard or witch and their confidants. This is much larger than tradition or secrecy. The light most certainly would not approve of what took place here today and the temple will have all of our heads if this goes badly. You need to know that before you decide what information you wish to be privy to. Plausible deniability should not be underrated.”

Draco nodded knowingly. “I think I would rather have all relevant details. I’m presuming it has to do with Severus’s dark mark?”

“In directly, yes.” Minerva pursed her lips after a particularly large swig of what he was quickly realizing was strong but cheap brandy. “What do you already know of that business?”

“Umm, my father told me a bit when the dark lord fell and then fell again.” He sipped his drink himself and it went down smoother than expected. Perhaps he was in shock. “I was told that the way he marked his first followers was different than those he recruited later. My father said that he put a fraction of himself in each of them. It was not significant enough to prevent his demise like the horcruxes but enough to infect them with who he was. His need to destroy. His lack of self control. His ability to perfect unforgivable curses. Those sort of things. That’s what I’ve been told anyway.”

McGonagall nodded in agreement. “Again, yes, for the most part. It only took root in those that did not have such impulses already. Severus was an angry child but certainly not hateful or impulsive. Turning his loyalties to the light was meant to hold the infection at bay, or at least it was Albus’s intention.”

He decided to ignore her using the late headmaster’s first name, as there were much more pressing matters at hand. “That was why he and his first wife had Ivy, wasn’t it? She was dying from it so time to save her soul was limited, I think. I remember my mother planted black roses in the greenhouse and sewed dark bed linens. My father had our whomping willow milled into lumber. The elves cracked oysters for months, gathering dark pearls. It was all for Lorna, wasn’t it?”

“Yes those are requirements for a traditional pureblood resting ceremony outside of wartime. Even Lucius and Narcissa could see that she deserved to be honored as one of their own given what she was doing for Severus. Your parents had seen a side of him during the first war that they never thought he was capable of. His body count is higher than nearly any of the other’s” She stared at her glass as if trying to recall the details or trying to forget them. 

“Lorna could not be marked to expunge her own infection, as she is pure blooded veela. That meant they needed to have two children, cleansing their souls in phases, and Severus was desperate to save her to give them the time after the ceremony to conceive twins failed. Though he will to his day deny it, he cared for her enough to not want her lost to oblivion. Being arguably the most powerful and skilled potions master of all time, there was no doubt he would succeed _eventually_ but he was running out of time. When Lorna went into labor, Severus begged the light to cleanse her soul entirely instead of treating part of each of them. She granted his wish. Three weeks later his potion was finished and did save Lorna’s life.” The witch choked up again and washed it away with another swig from her glass.

Draco did the same. “Then she left him, didn’t she?”

McGonafall huffed. “Severus was not any more easy to live with then as he is now. The outbursts came in waves and Albus was trying to teach him some semblance of self control. I was never told the full events of what happened the day Lorna came to Albus, only that she was firm and demanded that he unbind her from Lord Snape. My- ah, Lord Dumbledore agreed on the grounds that she would forfeit all parental rights to Ivy. In addition she had to take a light’s oath to abstain from contacting her daughter without her guardian’s written permission and supervision within the temple walls.

“With the help of a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore, Severus did get darkness under control, thank the light, and his struggles were minor from there. None of it was enough to worry ourselves over, Albus told me. A short temper with students. An occasional broken hand from punching a wall in the corridors. Thank the light, his urge to kill was easily kept at bay with monthly hunting trips. Just pheasants and other game birds, nothing significant. It became a bit of a pastime for them, actually.”

“What does this have to do with me? Why did it mean that I had to take the place as Ivy’s guardian?” He asked. There was no obvious answer, only pieces of information that fought to be connected in his mind.

She sighed. “Control did not mean his soul was cleansed and Lord Snape has long considered himself damned. His work as a spy for the order left the weight of even more crimes on his shoulders, then when Albus died he was no longer able to help him. Severus could not go to the temple without risking being caught and though he tried, Lord Shacklebolt could only offer him so much. We had all been assured when Voldemort fell that Severus no longer felt the lure as strongly. Now there has been a resurgence and, although we accepted long ago that it may come to this, none of us were quite prepared for the severity and speed of onset. We’re going into this battle blind with our hands tied behind our backs.”

“I still don’t understand.” He said.

The witch across from him responded by filling his glass again and jutted her chin towards it. “You’re going to need that, Mister Malfoy. No, I’m sorry, Lord Malfoy. You have paid for your title by taking a wife for a noble cause. If you were at all worried of your own crimes, they have been expunged by a far more powerful authority than the Wizengamot.”

He downed it and showed the witch his glass as proof, which to his dismay she filled again. “It can’t be that bad!” Draco doubted.

“Oh yes, Lord Malfoy, it can be and it is.” The headmistress shook her head in her own disbelief. “Severus has assaulted his wife both physically and sexually in the last twenty four hours. Her injuries were severe enough that both himself and Lord Shacklebolt used a significant amount of their magic to heal her. Lord Snape has come back to himself but while begging for his soul the light indicated that we have three days to pay his penance before darkness returns again. We fear this time it may never leave.”

“No,” He said. “You’re lying to me. He would never do that.”

McGonagall pursed her lips in offense she could not maintain given the distraught state of the young wizard before her. “Unfortunately, I am not. Though much like individuals with lycanthropy, the actions themselves were out of his control, it was still his carelessness that allowed this to go unchecked. To resolve it, we will break no less than a dozen wizarding laws that could earn each of us decades in Azkaban. Kingsley has wives to care for his children and I do not have any of my own but Severus is Ivy’s only parent. If he were to be found guilty, there is nothing stopping Lorna from regaining custody. I’m sorry for this burden being hoisted upon you without notice, Lord Malfoy. Please know the light will thank you for your service.”

Details on what he was to do were heard as if Draco was underwater, and he would have agreed to shovel hippogriff shit for the rest of his life if she had asked him to. None of it mattered. Her instructions, along with the knowledge that he had taken a child bride, would only be real to him when Ivy cried herself to sleep in his arms in front of the fireplace, and after putting her to bed he would do the same in Astoria’s. 

Together they packed their trunks and left them out for the house elves to put on the train. He was awake well into the night performing the required enchantments on the temple garments Lady McGonagall had provided them with. Neither Draco nor Astoria said a word when they dressed in the wee hours of the morning, their ability to move around one another like a planet and its moon not lost in their grief. She woke Ivy up and got her dressed without him needing to ask while Draco packed the potions he had purchased in Knockturn alley. Invigoration draughts kept them all from yawning, their lips pressed into hard lines while they walked through the corridors of Hogwarts. Astoria held Ivy’s hand and he kept his wand at the ready walking several steps ahead of them.

When he caught a glimpse of their reflections in polished marble, Draco did not see a broken wizard staring back at him. No, he saw a lord of the light dressed in the same black slacks, high collared shirt and trailing robes that Severus had worn all of Draco’s life. Earlier he had considered putting on a white tie, but left it draped across the armchair in front of their fireplace. Instead, Draco had rolled up his sleeve, taken a long look at his dark mark, and decided that he could wear nothing but black for the rest of his life as long as it masked the shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes us past 100k words and I promise there is still so much we have not even scratched the surface of.


	34. They Would Pray

The order of events was crucial and time was not a luxury at their disposal. They only had one opportunity to get it right. Garments had been swiftly sewn and blessed, trunks packed and coded messages sent throughout the temple floo network and by owl to safe houses. Each had their own destination, and requests for service or simply warnings of what was to come were sent throughout Britain. A final letter was sealed with a Prince family script and addressed to a temple in Athens where it was hoped to reach its intended recipient. They left Hogwarts in the wee hours of the morning, allowing the darkness to cloak their undisguisable expressions of pain, fear and determination. Soon they would say their goodbyes and play their parts in what was to come. Pops of apparition rang out in the darkness past the edge of the protected Hogwarts grounds as they headed towards their destinies. But first, they would pray.

It was before dawn within the temple walls and no one made a sound. Draco knelt before the altar with downcast eyes, with Severus, Kingsley and Potter doing the same on his flanks. Each of the wizard’s wives kept a hand on their lord’s shoulder while leaning forward behind them, the weight to symbolize the responsibility each held. Even Lady McGonagall had risked the trip to kneel beside them in silent tribute to a force they had all dedicated their lives to for one reason or another. Some by birth, some for salvation and some for the witches that they loved.

There was no prayer to say, their presence and position of total submission to the light’s power was enough. Draco occasionally snuck a peak at the newly converted wizard that had been his rival for the last seven years. Was now a time for forgiveness? In this new world they had entered, neither of them could stake claim to being the enlightened while the other admitted their ignorance. As this new stage of their lives commenced, both he and Potter were guided by a desperation like none they had ever encountered. This was no longer a matter of Gryffindor against Slytherin, tainted blood against pure or order members against death eaters. From the moment Harry Potter had stepped within the temple for the first time, he and Draco were brothers. Joining them further, the wizards now shared a common enemy.

An hour passed before anyone stood, and with very few words spoken they divided themselves into factions. Kingsley wrapped his arms around both Lysis and Genesis, kissing their heads as a blessing and soon doing the same for all four of their daughters. Violet, and the toddler whose name Draco should not remember, pulled on and climbed Lord Shacklebolt’s flowing green robes until he lifted them into his arms. His eldest two daughters, Aurora and Phila, stood only to his ribs but leaned in to wrap their arms around him. How had Draco never noticed how tall the minister was? Perhaps because his mind has always been occupied with other things. Or, perhaps it was that since joining the light, both his senses and wits had never been sharper.

Lady McGonagall nervously adjusted the lapels of Potter’s jacket, straightened the vest he wore under it, scolded him for invisible flaws in the seams of his well ironed trousers and redid his perfectly good Windsor knot twice. The watering of her eyes was impossible to ignore, and even from a distance Draco could assume she was expressing her pride in the only way that she knew. Ginny Weasley stood near them, crossing her arms in what Draco was certain was a mix of discomfort and displeasure. She did not look towards Potter with adoration - and even Astoria was managing that quite nicely. No, the Weasley girl was not the type as far as he could discern. And yet, there she was in the walls of a temple dedicated to a force she clearly did not believe in. Ginny would change her mind. That was a simple fact. Where she was going - and who she was headed to see - would make it impossible to deny the light’s power.

Lord Snape could not bring himself to look Granger in the eye, but appeared to have no problem with whispering what Draco assumed to be his vile fantasies into her ear. At least, that’s all he could _imagine_ such a disgusting wizard would say as his goodbye. Those words still somehow visibly relaxed the wounded rabbit of a witch. Snape’s hands grazed down both the front and back of her white robes, identical to the ones worn by all the wives or lovers other than Lysis who wore a breathtaking scarlet. He nearly fondled her in front of an entire room of their peers. Draco was nauseated by the sight and picked it apart as a magical reaction rather than evidence of genuine reconciliation. Granger was far too intelligent to be so easily manipulated back into the arms of a man who had assaulted her. If she had given up, there was no hope for the rest of them.

Draco found himself to be the only one that had stepped closer to the door instead of further into the large chamber, standing in front of both Ivy and Astoria as if all others who occupied the temple before dawn were there to harm them. When Severus approached, Draco did not allow himself to be intimidated by his crimes and stepped forward to meet the wizard that he would let nowhere near his family.

“Draco, may the light be with you always.” Snape nodded, the inclination of his head as falsified as his lordship. “With Ivy and Astoria as well. More so in these transitional times than ever.”

Draco could not stop himself from scowling, wishing that staring down the man hard enough would burn him to ash. “I shall skip the etiquette you so frequently hide behind, say what needs to be said and get as far away from you as possible.” He told him, not allowing Severus the chance to speak before going on. “I don’t care how you choose to fix the unfixable. Those empty promises of setting everything right mean nothing to me. Until the man I thought I knew stands in front of me and is as devastated as he should be over what he has done, you are going to stay away from Ivy Lane. I don’t want to see you, receive your letters or hear your bloody name. Do not floo. Do not send owls. And do not count on ever speaking to my wife again. As of now, you are dead to me.”

At first the sallow skinned man paled further, visibly taken aback by the venom in Draco’s voice, and then he nodded in reverence. “That is your decision to make, Lord Malfoy. I am only here to offer you a word of counsel.”

Draco bared his teeth and ushered his new wife and the mother of his child even closer to the door and behind McGonagall, who took her own protective stance in front of the young witches. Snape looked past him at the child he had raised, as if trying to memorize every detail of her face without the tears that streamed down it. For a second, a _very_ brief one, Draco felt a twinge of guilt and a tightening of his throat. He could not discern if keeping a daughter from her father was heartless, but he had decided it was far less cruel than allowing a rapist near a vulnerable young girl.

“I am begging you to be careful with Ivy. Keep your distance. Watch what you say or what she sees. Do your best not to upset her. Most importantly, whatever you do, _do not touch her._ ” Severus said in a low whisper, glancing towards Kingsley in the distance and then back at him.

Draco scoffed at the sheer nerve he must have to say such a thing. “That’s rich coming from you.” Though he knew it was unbelievably bold and equally as untrue, Draco could not stop himself from indulging in torturing the already fallen wizard. There would never be enough pain to make up for what he had inflicted, but that did not stop Draco from trying. “Given that you’ve proven your judgement is not up to my standards, I will be making my own decisions regarding who is in my bed.”

“Lord Malfoy,“ Kingsley warned, closer than he had been before with Potter by his side. “Lord Snape, you both should walk away before something is said that you will regret.”

“I’m in control, Lord Shacklebolt, though I cannot speak for him. In fact, I am in absolute control of something quite shiny and new that I _fully_ intend on enjoying.” Draco sneered, biting his lip and lowering his voice so that’s no one but the lords surrounding him could hear. Ivy would never hear his disgusting lies. Her ears were far too innocent. “You see, lately I’ve been imagining how _lovely_ it would be to see both my wives pregnant with my sons at the same time. There are even rituals I could do to ensure that happens. Of the texts I’ve read, most say that it is quite dangerous magic but frequently produces twins if a virgin is taken on the altar. But that’s acceptable behavior of a lord that claims to follow all that is good, isn’t it? If anyone has a problem with my decision, I’ll simply tell them that I learned I could do whatever I wished with my wives from my dear old godfather, Lord Severus Tobias Snape. What lovely advice to give me on my wedding day, wouldn’t you say?”

The black eyes staring so closely into his appeared ready to pop right out of their sockets and Draco could have laughed at the smoke he imagined coming out of Snape’s huffing nostrils. Neither wizard was holding their wand, but both kept a hand near the pocket in which it was kept. Dueling on temple grounds was strictly prohibited but no rules stopped lord from defending those the light had entrusted them with. 

“I have paid my penance. What you think of me means nothing.” Snape managed to calmly say. “And when I warn you about Ivy, remember that I know my daughter better than anyone. When I warn you, I mean it.”

Draco scoffed and prepared to turn away from the man. “Unless you’ve managed to rape one into Granger already, you have no daughter.” With that he left, taking only seconds to herd Astoria and Ivy out the heavy marble doors and allow them to slam shut behind him.

“Aren’t you going to go after him?” Harry demanded, his voice echoing through the nearly empty chamber. “Dammit, why isn’t anyone stopping him? What is the matter with all of you?”

Kingsley patted his shoulder. “Calm yourself. Lords act with reverence and level head. This is a sacred place.”

“And she is a child, just like your own! Doesn’t that matter more?” Harry protested, not noticing that Genesis and Lysis had herded their children out of the room and away from the conflict.

“Draco would never hurt her, Potter.” Severus said, straightening his robes and picking a bit of lint off of the cuff. “He is a terrible Occlumens and may as well have been winking with each word. I will allow him to believe he has been clever and left me tortured. Whatever it takes to fuel him in protecting Ivy is fine. I have suffered far worse.”

“How can you be sure he won’t change his mind?” Potter asked. “They will be all alone in a house of death eaters, the same place where Hermione was tortured putting her in this position to begin with. Why are you letting this happen?”

Snape chuckled, still staring at the door that he had last seen his daughter exit. “Because, Potter, nothing that has ever passed through the front gates of that manor has been more dangerous than what I have sent inside.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is REALLY clunky and I have been trying to make it not so for the last month. It was a transition that had to happen and had to happen quickly, so I decided to sacrifice quality and pull off the bandaid. Sorry friends.
> 
> Also, my Fleur accents are based on my experience speaking French and what letters are often skipped over or not pronounced the same way. Maybe you like it, maybe you don't. It is what it is.

The hour stretched onward, everyone waiting for someone different to walk through the floo, and Hermione noticed Kingsley pacing anxiously in front of it for several minutes, ducking into the office area, and back out again. An ex-auror so unnerved sent shivers down her spine and Hermione tried to remember Severus’s and McGonagall’s reassurances that all they had to do was each play their parts, and this would all be fine.

He let out a sigh of relief when Viktor Krum arrived through the floo, and quickly retrieved his two eldest daughters from the office in which his wives had taken them.

Viktor spotted both Aurora and Phila as they were ushered out, all wearing their temple garments and glared at Kingsley. “I did not agree to this, Lord Shacklebolt.”

The minister’s eyes were pleading. “Lord Krum, I can't have her here. Her magic was placed under the trace and we can’t prevent the ministry from using it to locate her unless she is out of the country. Please. I am willing to promise you Phila as well as long as you can assure her safety through this ordeal.”

The Bulgarian wizard eyed the girls with heavy scrutiny but without malice, and held his hand out for Aurora- his future wife- to hold. “It has been too long.” Aurora stepped forward and accepted being pulled into his embrace of a man she barely knew, though Hermione remembered being held by those arms. They were warm, and gentle, and she had practically had to beg for a goodnight kiss. 

“Would she bring you comfort?” He asked and she nodded against his chest. “Come to me.” Viktor said, assessing the second girl who was only just eleven years old. He ran a hand down her right arm and then the other down her left, his brow furrowing further after each movement. Hermione felt herself becoming ill at the idea of what he could be thinking, but was relieved when he spoke, pointing to her empty hands and the lack of concealed compartments in her robe’s sleeves. “This may be war and you expect her to go without a wand?”

“Find her one, quickly.” Kingsley sounded rushed and out of breath. “Then please get them out of sight. My daughter’s are my life, Lord Krum.”

Viktor nodded somberly. “I will protect them with mine.”

They departed back through the floo, and Kingsley soon ushered his wives and younger two children out the door in front of him. They were apparating back to the secret kept cottage, but Kingsley would not stay with them. He would seal them inside and go back to the ministry to keep up appearances and divert their attention if necessary. Hermione hoped it wouldn’t be.

“Lady McGonagall, could you please see to it that my wife, Lord Potter and Miss Weasley make it to their destination in one piece? We are running out of time.” Snape asked with a hiss, checking his already buttoned cuffs and pulling a strand of curly brown hair from his robes.

“No, zat will not be necessary.” A voice called out from the other side of the altar which, from their vantage point, blocked the fireplace. “I am very sorry zat we are late.” Fleur Delacour- no, Weasley- said, rushing to embrace and kiss Ginny, Harry and Hermione in that exact order.

Behind her, Bill stood far more stoic. His black attire matched Snape’s and he nodded at each of them. “I too apologize for the delay. Fleur needed to see her family and retrieve Gabrielle before the news broke. We’re afraid the Ministry may find a way to close down the inter-temple floo network.” He explained, and Hermione noted that he was far more formal than she had seen him at Shell Cottage during their year on the run. For one, he had not been wearing those clothes.

Noticing her critical evaluation, the blonde girl leaned in to whisper in her ear during a hug that lasted far longer than Hermione preferred. “Don’t worry, ‘e is just zis way in ze temple. Bill tries very ‘ard for me. It is sweet.”

Hermione flushed, humiliated she had been caught, and felt Fleur pull away just as Severus wrapped his arms around her from behind. “A moment?” His breath was hot in her ear and he maneuvered her so that he could sit in a high backed chair and she was on his lap. “You need to go with Lord Weasley. When it is safe again, I will come for you immediately, but there is no way of knowing if that will be hours or days. All that I can promise is that I will miss you every moment. I love you, Hermione. Please tell me that you know that. I am begging for the truth.”

She leaned onto Snape’s shoulder and inhaled the smell of potions fumes and bath oils, then nodded into the fabric. “I know.” Hermione answered, pushing down the nagging need to return the sentiment. It was too soon. It hadn’t been an entire day since his touch had been cruel to her, and her body was used as a tool for his sadistic darkness to violate. McGongall taking her memory left the events in black and white and as if she had watched them in a film instead of experiencing them first hand, but she had been told by the headmistress that it was best it not be returned to her. That it was serving its purpose elsewhere.

Strong but dexterous hands rubbed up and down her back, gentle over her spine while still kneading her aching muscles. When Hermione let out a low whine, he dipped his lips to her throat. “Shh, you are quite alright. Remember, I am with you always.” He said, and no sooner had the words hit her ears when her mark began to burn. No, it wasn’t burning. It was far more like a warm glow. Like a loving embrace. “See? I will never leave you behind. Pet, I promise that I am going to make this right, but I need you to go with them now.”

“I don’t understand.” Hermione said, shaking her head against the rough material. “Isn’t it more suspicious if I suddenly disappear? Harry and Ginny as well? Help me understand.”

Snape sighed, and nuzzled her for the final moment he could. “Suspicion is a small price to pay for what may be a pointless precaution. There is nothing I would not risk to keep you safe.” He asked and she noticed the breaking in his voice. “And Hermione, I am begging you to please, for once in your life, try to follow the rules. Listen to Lord Weasley and do not get yourself into any trouble.”

“What are you talking about?” She pulled away, her mind spinning in twelve different directions and reaching no solid explanations or even assumptions to work off of. “What do you mean trouble? What is he going to ask me to do?”

“What Lord Snape means is that you and Harry are capable of getting yourselves in trouble no matter where you are.” A warmer voice answered, and Hermione recognized it as the Bill she remembered. He knelt down beside them and smiled at her. For a split second, she felt mortified and worried that Fleur had told him of her evaluation, but the genuine smile upon the shaggy red haired wizard’s face settled that concern. “We’re just going to make a stop by the Burrow then floo to our house. We haven’t eaten and I’ve been told I make an edible breakfast. If it means anything, I think that this one will be knocking at our door before the dishes have dried, but if not then I think Fleur and Gabrielle have something very fun planned for you and Ginny.”

Their trunks sat in a corner, ready to be temporarily shrunk for apparition, and Hermione doubted Bill’s casual attitude was appropriate in this particular situation. Considering he and Fleur had gone to France in the wee hours of the morning, he likely did not believe himself either.

***

“I will not have my daughter enslaved by a church for murders and pedophiles!” Arthur Weasley yelled over his sons’ protests.

“Dad, you can't say things like that.” George warned him, flinching in preparation for the rebuttals that would come. “Everyone needs to take a deep breath and-“

Bill pulled Fleur, Victorie and Gabrielle behind his body and gestured towards the living room. His wife paused to argue and he spoke calmly. “I’m not going to explain myself; Do as you’re told.”

“Oh there it is.” His father began to rant. “Their indoctrination has already turned you into a patriarchal tyrant. Tell me, son, does it make you feel powerful to stand over her? Do you believe that controlling your wife makes you more of a man? And why did you get Gabrielle, looking to mark her too?”

“She is Fleur’s _baby sister_ and I sent them in there because I don’t trust _you_ right now.” Bill answered and George sighed, clearly wishing that defusing the situation was still possible but knowing it was a waste of breath. “It is my greatest privilege in this life to be entrusted by the light with their protection. I am to keep them safe. Do you have a problem with that too?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have a problem with your delusions when it now seems like you’re looking to drag your sister down with you and asking your brother to help.” Arthur nearly spat across the table.

George learned in between them and did not raise his voice as the other wizards had been. “Dad, are you willing to lose three of your children to this? And Harry? You’ve only got so many left.”

This caused Mr Weasley to begin sputtering and Harry noticed a small gesture from Bill that was little more than a look and a nod but spoke volumes, and he very quickly put himself between Ginny and Arthur, only moments before the bits of sawdust began floating down from the ceiling above them.

“Look right there! Now Harry, of all people, is doing things like _that_! What the hell is wrong with the lot of you?” Mr Weasley continued gesturing wildly, beyond noticing the rattling dishes in their cupboards. “Can’t any of you see what you’re doing is wrong? There is a reason that I sacrificed everything to leave the temple so that none of you would have to be brought up tied to that horrible place and now look at yourself, Bill. Just see for a moment who you have become. Think of all that you are taking from Victorie? Think of what Fleur had to endure at your hand and the fact that someone will do that to your daughter and more than likely you will be told to do the same to Gabrielle. Does that not disgust you?”

Bill’s nostrils flared and he had his hand gripped firmly around his wand. “My daughter will have the best education, the best mediwitches, and myself to protect her until or unless she chooses a lord. Gabrielle is under my protection but I am not being betrothed to her or any other nonsense, because no one is going to make either of us agree to that. In the words of Albus Dumbledore, ‘Life is about-‘“

“‘-about choices.’ They’re still pushing their same rubbish that they always have. Did Ivy Snape have a choice? That was the very little girl that Severus swore up and down the bloody wall he would never force to be marked and yesterday he sold her to Draco Malfoy.” Arthur said through his clenched teeth. “The Malfoys haven’t had more than one heir per generation for a hundred years and Lucius was presented with an opportunity to change that. She’s going to be bred like livestock, don’t you realize that?”

“Don’t you _dare_ talk about my lord and my step daughter like that.” Hermione protested from the doorway, and Ginny’s face flooded with relief at the sight of Teddy on her arms. She was more than happy to transfer the squirming baby into her godmother’s arms, and Ginny swept out the front door that she slammed with clear intent. “You’re wrong, Mr Weasley. You have no idea why my lord did what he did and that’s because it is none of your business. Lord Malfoy will protect Ivy with his life.”

Mr Weasley, who had opened his mouth to continue berating them, froze at the sight of Hermione pulling aside her hair to show a silvery scar of Severus Snape’s signature that was raised red and flushed pink around the edges. Most witch’s marks were never seen outside the temple due to their location, but Arthur knew that. He had grown up there, just as he had yelled at them, after all.

“This is what you’re fighting over. This is what you’re willing to tear your family apart for.” She said, nearly in disbelief. “A stupid little scar. Look at your son’s face. Why does this even matter? Did you ever care to look at my other scars? I had hundreds and now they are gone. Were you anywhere close to this enraged when _mudblood_ was carved into my arm and bleeding for six months? Did you even care?”

“Molly, do we have any dittany?” He called into the other room, his expression concerned. “Hermione, that looks infected. You need a healer. Let us take you to St Mungos.”

“If she sees any healer, it will be at the temple. We will not have any random apprentice touching her when we have the largest network of masterful healers in the world.” Bill reached out, catching Hermione around her free wrist and guiding her towards him. As long as the direction was away from Arthur in the state he was in, she would have walked off a cliff side. 

“Come on, let me have a look at it.” Bill held up her hair and had her drop her hand, then shook his head. His fingertips brushed over it, not igniting it again as Hermione had feared but providing a gentle cooling sensation, and Bill glared at his father. “It’s healing just fine, stop trying to scare her. The wound is under a vitality spell specifically so that it doesn’t become infected or cause her pain. Clearly you know nothing about this anymore, Dad. You are blinded by hatred. Lord Snape is hundreds of miles away and has the power to ensure that nothing can happen to his witch in his absence. How can you not want that for Ginny, if that is what Ginny decides that she wants? Harry can keep her safe now in ways never possible before.”

“Do you hear yourself? _His witch_ ? As if Hermione here is just the same as _his book_ or _his coat_ or any other object that Severus Snape believes he owns. He ought to be sentenced to the kiss for trapping her like this. Snape has stolen the rest of her life and now Harry thinks he wants to do the same to my daughter.”

“With all due respect, Mr Weasley, the only thing I wanted to do in coming here was get my godson.” Harry said, and stepped back from the table. “I will respect whatever Ginny decides.”

Surprisingly, it was Bill who corrected him. “Harry, she can’t say no to you in this. If she did, she would lose you and Teddy. Marriage outside of the temple is forbidden. Ginny coming here with you to get him was her saying yes. She knows that.”

“Well that’s just great, isn’t it?” Arthur said, and Bill made sure to move Hermione behind him. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on. This is not the first time something terrible like this has been done and the bells have been sounded to hide the children and get out of the public eye. Let me guess, you all just came from the temple and Kingsley’s daughters were sent off with whoever the bloody hell they’ve been promised to. Oh, and Bill, you took Fleur to see her family and fetch Gabrielle because you’re afraid the intertemple floo network may _actually_ be shut down this time even though it’s never happened and it never will! Am I right? Is that what you’ve been told?”

“We came to that conclusion on our own, thanks.” Bill said. 

“What now? What’s the plan? Keep Ginny, Gabrielle and Hermione all out of school with promise of _light magic_ which will leave them weak and defenseless and-“

“ _Silentium placet,_ ” Fleur hissed from the doorway and Arthur fell silent. “You 'av spoken ill of ze man zat is my lord, but you will never speak ill of ze light if you wish to see your granddaughter again.”

“Fleur, stand down!” Bill bellowed and reached for her wand, which she still held in a shaking grip. “Take your wand off of my father and put it in my hand, immediately. I will not repeat myself.”

After several tense seconds, she slowly surrendered her wand to Bill and was immediately pulled into his embrace, his lips finding the top of her head while she was soon racked with sobs from deep in her chest, “I’m sorry.”

“Shh, love, I know. It’s not your fault. Shh, hey now, it’s not your fault.” Bill rocked her from side to side. “I’m not angry with you.”

Hermione hoped that he meant that. She hoped that they would all make it back to the cottage with laughter in their ears and smiles on their faces. She knew her raw nerves couldn’t take any more tearful goodbyes or raised voices. It was for exactly that reason that Bill’s words upon their arrival, spoken through his teeth, felt like a hand being closed around her throat.  
“Help yourselves to anything you need.” He gestured towards the kitchen and bathroom. “Fleur and I need to have a conversation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I've been having trouble getting motivated with this story so any words of encouragement would be very much appreciated. Thank you all.


	36. The Three Great Sacrifices

“Fleur, get over here now.” Bill hissed and slammed the bedroom door behind them. From the sitting area they heard a whispered argument, a spell and then nothing.

George sighed. “We should sit down.” 

Hands shaking and stomach somehow shivering in much the same way, Hermione sat down next to Ginny and watched the way she held Teddy tight to her chest.

“I’ve got you, love.” She whispered under her breath, rocking back and forth a bit too fast to be comforting. Harry’s hand rested on her upper back, smoothing over her temple robes in small circles. “Mo- I’m here. Shh, I’m right here.”

With sad eyes, Harry perched on the arm of the couch and watched them both carefully. What went unspoken was that the reassurances were far more for Ginny’s benefit than Teddy’s. She had missed her godson in the mere weeks they were separated, and was facing the choice of either losing him and Harry or turning to a religion that Arthur Weasley was so adamantly against that he walked away from his family and started anew. Now, they were all doing the same. Even Ginny, because it wasn’t a choice. When it came to Harry and Teddy, she would always follow them.

“Is she going to be okay?” Harry chinned towards the bedroom door and George nodded, waving him off.

“Oh yeah, she’s fine.” He said, and oddly enough Hermione believed he was telling the truth. “Fleur is… she’s the type that thrives on conflict but the aftermath is a bit teary, especially when she thinks Bill is angry with her. He's just comforting her. I’ve seen it.”

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, pushed up from the sofa and found her trunk. “I’m going to go change.” She announced, meaning to make it quiet but finding she didn’t quite have a choice in the matter. Her volume control had a mind of its own.

In jeans and a jumper, which were far less drafty than her white lace robes, Hermione felt more like herself. She untangled the braid down her back and brushed out her hair, letting her breathing settle into a steady rhythm.

_ This isn’t war.  _ Hermione tried to tell herself to calm the nervous itching across every inch of her skin.  _ This is waiting. _

“Ginny? Do you want to use my hairbrush?” Hermione called out with the pathetic hope that she was doing Harry a favor. At this point, she knew he would deny Ginny absolutely nothing, even if it pained him immeasurably to watch her suffer.

“It’s okay, go on. I can take him.” Harry murmured and Ginny joined Hermione in the bathroom with a pile of her own clothes. After years of friendship and now wearing sparse temple garments in each other’s presence, changing into her own jeans, t-shirts and zip up clearly didn’t bother either of them.

When Ginny reached for her own braid, Hermione caught her hand with only a feather touch. The instinct to do so caught her by surprise, as she did not recognize the draw to stop her until their fingers already touched.

“Let me.”

Working quickly but gently. Hermione unwove and brushed through Ginny’s red locks until she also seemed a bit more herself. Hermione turned on the sink and grabbed a cloth from the shelf, running it under the warm water.

“Come here.”

Hermione held her chin with one hand wiped away the weight of the wee hours of the morning with the other, Ginny expressionlessly allowing her.

“This always makes me feel better.” She said, and the corners of Ginny’s lips finally tugged upwards. “This is temporary, Gin. Severus promised and Bill believes it will be over soon.”

Ginny looked down immediately after she was let go and crossed her arms protectively over her rib cage. “Is it wrong that I don’t want it to be?”

Many unspoken fears and anxieties floated within Ginny’s words, and Hermione shook her head. “Of course not. But Ginny… you don’t have to go back if you don’t want to.” She stressed, immediately loathing herself for encouraging another witch to abandon their education. “I don’t mean- look, there are choices. You and Harry have time to figure this all out. Just, I beg of you, don’t borrow problems from tomorrow.”

“I can’t just leave him again.”

Hermione wasn’t sure exactly which one Ginny was more hurt to be separated from, but it didn’t matter. Either way, she was in pain. Years of Harry - as well as Hermione and Ron - running off to do whatever he wished and leaving her behind would be enough to shake even the bravest to their core. This wasn’t the battle, but the aftermath. Given that, all Hermione could offer was a listening ear, a helping hand and attempts at calm advice that came out as unintended platitudes. As difficult as it was to admit, Hermione knew she was out of her depth. Sometimes, when people were at their most broken, only one special person could put them back together again.

Ginny’s was in the sitting room.

Her’s was off repenting for violating her in a way she couldn’t quite remember.

Returning to a room of giggling toddlers and their adoring audience was enough to lift the dreary room to a tolerable level. Gabrielle hadn’t said a word in Hermione’s presence since they arrived but George wasn’t upset by this so she chose not to be either. They all coped in different ways.

Eventually, Bill rejoined them, making it far more obvious in the air around them that Fleur did not accompany him. “She’s a bit worn out. We didn’t sleep before we left.” He said sheepishly, cheeks reddening.

Still wearing his temple attire, just as Harry was, Bill strode through the sitting room and into the kitchen to rummage through their fridge until he found what sounded like the ingredients for bacon, eggs and toast. The familiar sizzle and smell seemed to calm the room and soon they were seated at the table.

Every bite Hermione took was supervised intensely by Bill, which was far more than a bit unnerving. Her chewing slowed, first avoiding looking at him and then making eye contact while she took bites of buttery bread and scrambled eggs. She had mostly cleared her plate when Bill finally smiled at her like an older brother concerned while their sibling recovered from a long illness. She noticed George dutifully watching Gabrielle in much the same way, also only absently eating his own breakfast until he could be reasonably certain that she would finish enough of it to be well. It was the same way Severus often watched her, without the permanent scowl. 

Harry and Ginny fed both Teddy and Victore from their plates and ate in their rare moments of reprieve from the demanding toddlers’ appetites. Hermione admired the way they both appeared to be natural parents and through their conflicting emotions still managed to achieve the task pleasantly and in near perfect harmony.

When he moved, she moved, both in a constant orbit around one another.

George and Gabrielle handled the washing while Bill showed Ginny where she could lay Teddy down for a much needed rest as he did the same for his daughter. Upon their return, Bill put back on a careful grin and sat down with his knees on his elbows to scratch the back of his head.

“Hermione, I-“ He stopped to again make eye contact; they both strained to maintain if amongst the chaos that seemed to make them all want to curl up with someone they loved and sleep it all away. “Thank you for trusting me. I know that Harry here is your hand tamer, and still I am honored you’ve taken refuge under our roof and my lordship.” The words stumbled off the tongue with obvious discomfort but appeared to be genuine. 

Harry spoke when Hermione couldn’t bring herself to. It was part of his duties, wasn’t it? “Thank you for having us.”

“Of course.”

She played with her fingers and tried not to watch the way everyone besides herself and Bill seemed to find contentment in the small cottage. Harry and Ginny wrapped up around one another in a non-obscene but entirely too intimate to watch way that left Hermione aching to be back with her Lord to do the same, Fleur and the children were obviously asleep, and George was trying to entertain Gabrielle with a few trinkets he packed from his shop. A pang of jealousy tightened her throat and she returned Bill’s sad smile with hopes that her thoughts were apparent without explanation.

As an only child, she would always be envious of Ginny Weasley. No matter how irritating they could be, no one could accuse Bill or George of being poor older brothers. George even managed to brother a girl that wasn’t his to do so in a moment of obvious discomfort and anxiety. Surrounded by friends, Hermione Snape was alone.

“Hermione, I wish to see you outside.” Bill said carefully, standing expectantly.

_ I did promise to listen _ . She reasoned with herself and joined him just outside of the cottage near the railing on the cliff that overlooked the beach and the sea.

He leaned on it, still scratching at his hair nervously, and stared out over the water. “I wish this hadn’t happened to you in the way it did.”

“What do you mean?”

Bill shook his head. “I mean that I’m glad you’ve come to follow the light and a lord of it, but I wish it had been your free choice and I’m terribly sorry that it wasn’t.”

“You…” Hermione trailed off, remembering the hushed discussions at Bill and Fleur’s wedding about the marking ceremony to come. “Do you really believe in the power of the light m? In the dynamic of lords and wives?”

“I do.” He said, not as a confession but as a confirmation. It was simply information to him, and not something to be atoned for. “It’s impossible not to once you’ve seen what the light can do. How She can heal. The connection She can forge between lord and wife. I was so in love with Fleur at our wedding. She looked so beautiful and I never imagined how little the memory of her in that dress would mean after my mark was etched into her flesh. There is nothing more beautiful than Fleur in her temple robes and I’ve never  _ seen _ or really been  _ seen  _ by anyone more than her now that we’ve been joined. Marking does that. It changes witches and wizards into the greatest forms of themselves, but these deeper connections mean separation can be unsettling. I can see that you’re feeling it already, which is why I think you have a right to know what Severus has been ordered by the light to do.” Bill nodded absently. “Did anyone tell you what penance he was assigned?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, I think they thought they were protecting me by not saying anything. These last few days haven’t been easy.”

He huffed. “The path to hell… Hermione, what happened to you was an offense that cannot be ignored. He was given the highest penance before severance from the light. Severus sent you here so he could perform The Three Great Sacrifices.”

“What…”

“For a severe offense, a wizard may be asked to perform three sacrifices at specific intervals. The sacrifices are life, love and freedom.” His voice faltered. “They are meant to be done in any order, but at intervals of within three days, within three months and within three years. The punishment is meant to be enduring and demonstrate real devotion.

“The first is often done hastily and in panic, with the intention that they will always be reminded of it because to some degree it is a regret. Lord Snape gave someone he loved away for her own good by marrying her off to Draco. But he will miss her and there is a chance Draco won’t encourage her to ever see him again. It’s small but the fear is much larger. It  _ will  _ consume him and you should be prepared for that.

“The second that Lord Snape is going to perform is life. One is supposed to give the world life. A lot of people just have children and do this as the third so they have time but he’s made a choice to do something more drastic.

“The last is freedom. I’m not sure if he even has a plan but part of me wonders if he is counting on being sent to Azkaban for his second sacrifice.” His lips are pursed with frustration.

“What is the second sacrifice he chose?”

“Look, I’m not supposed to be telling you this but I really do believe you have a right to know, so here it is” … “Lord Snape, Lord Shacklebolt and Lady McGonagall are going to-”

* * *

_ She paced in front of the Transfiguration classroom, wringing her hands and preparing herself to speak with him for over an hour. The piece of parchment burned in her pocket and she hoped that of all people, Lord Dumbledore would know what to do. He had always been nice to her. _

_ “Miss McGonagall?” Professor Dumbledore asked, approaching the doorway with a book in his hand. The wizard was not young by muggle standards, his brown hair speckled with gray and the start of lines on his forehead, but he looked much different than the other nearly sixty year old professors at Hogwarts. Lords aged differently, she had been told growing up, and being faced with non-light wizards when she started school had confirmed that fact. He wore the customary three piece suit that many lords chose as their devotional attire - his jacket clearly left in his locked classroom - and she knew he had to be one of them. “Do you need something?” He asked. _

_ “Yes, I do.” Minerva nodded as confidently as she could manage. There was a phrase she had heard used and been taught by her parents but had never felt the need to say until that very moment. It sat on the tip of her tongue, and she allowed herself one last moment to consider the implications of her request. Yes, she was sure. What other choice did she have? “Lord Dumbledore, I desperately seek your counsel.” _

_ At first his eyes widened but then he nodded at her, holding open the door and transfiguring a cushioned chair for her to sit in beside his own. He set down his books on his desk and dug through the drawers. Soon he sat down next to her, lit a cigar with a match and settled into the serious business that it was.  _

_ “Minerva, what has brought you here? Something is troubling you.” He furrowed his brow and leaned forward towards the second year, trying to read her face. _

_ She reached into her pocket, producing a piece of parchment that she held with clear disdain, “As you know, I’m twelve now.” _

_ “Of course, do go on.” Albus gestured, his interest peaking every moment his student sat before him. He had not known her family was from the temple, but then he did not frequently have reason to visit the Scottish temple when apparating to his own in London was just as easy. _

_ Minerva’s trembling hands unfolded the note and she handed it over to her teacher who took it and began to study the curling script. “Those are the wizards that my father says they are going to offer me to next year. Your name is on the list.” _

_ “Ah,” He responded, finding his name only seconds later. “Yes, I see that.” _

_ “Well, the problem is I don’t want to marry a lord or be marked.” She said. “I thought maybe you could help me.” _

_ Albus raised his eyebrows in surprise, even further intrigued by what appeared to be a very different little girl than those he grew up alongside. “I must say, Miss McGonagall, that your viewpoint is quite refreshing. I do not know many young witches of the light that share your ambition for independence.” _

_ “Thank you.” Minerva smiled, trying her best to stand up straight and not kick her legs. If she was to be taken as seriously as an adult, then she would have to act like one. “I would like to become the first lady of the light.” _

_ “Would you now?” Albus smiled broadly at his student. “I think that is a fine goal, Minerva. Just an absolutely wonderful idea. Whatever can I do to help you in this admirable endeavor?” _

_ She pursed her lips, looking hesitant for a second or two. It was time to face her last chance at the future she wished for. “I was wondering if you would petition for betrothal to me first, before my parents send out any invitations to meet me? Then, when I turn seventeen and we are supposed to be joined, we never complete the ceremony. I can work here at the school - in the kitchens - and by then no one can do anything to try to make me change my mind. You could protect me.” _

_ “Hmm,” Dumbledore sat back and took a long puff of his cigar, analyzing her admittedly poor prospects on the list. Several were collectors of young wives, the most obvious being Lord Billforbell who had marked four of them in the decade since finishing his mastery. He was certain that Miss McGonagall would be an exception to none of them. They would expect to get the witch they were offered in the end, and even though they could not explicitly force her to comply, he knew several who had felt pressured into what they had confided in him were unhappy unions. “I don’t think I can agree to that, Minerva.” _

_ “Oh,” Her gaze cast downward and she nodded. “My apologies for wasting your time, Lord Dumbledore. Thank you for hearing my request.” _

_ His blue eyes were pushed up by a smile that she caught from the corner of her vision. “Do not act surprised by this, little witch. You had to have known I would not accept such a ridiculous request.” _

_ The smile on his face sunk a dagger into her chest and she resolved that she would not allow a wizard making fun of her to see her cry. “No, I suppose I didn’t expect you to.” _

_ “Please, remember to use your head. It was not placed upon your neck to hold your shoulders down.” Albus chided. “Agreeing to a false betrothal and staying here at Hogwarts by working in the kitchens.” He said the last two words with disgust. “It won’t do… unless of course… hmm… Miss McGonagall, have you considered transfiguration?” _

* * *

“Minerva you must be reasonable,” Severus stressed and prepared himself for the onslaught of her dagger eyes and high pitched protests.

“No, Lord Snape, I most certainly do not have to be reasonable.” McGonagall seethed and lifted a paperweight from her desk to throw at his head, missing by only inches. “By temple law this is still  _ my  _ decision and we will do it  _ my  _ way or we will not do it at all!”

Kingsley stepped between them, a wand in quick reach but otherwise just hands on either side as if to physically hold them apart. “Both of you, enough! Albus would be ashamed to hear the two of you fighting like this.”

“Ohhh, you would like to tell  _ me _ who Albus Dumbledore was?” Her voice dripped with sickly sweetness that could only be described as nerve grating.

Severus crossed his arms and seemed pleased that her fury was no longer directed at him. “That was a terrible idea, old friend.” He said to the minister and then smirked.

McGonagall stomped and bared her teeth, leaning forward across her desk as if a predator ready to strike. “Lord Dumbledore was by my side from the time I was twelve years old. Albus and I were together for fifty-eight years. His bed was down the hall from mine for fifty-eight years. We had mid morning tea together every day for fifty-eight years. He kept those stupid candies on his desk for me because the first time I came to home for help, he asked what my favorite sweet was I said ‘sherbet lemons’ and even after I grew to hate them, he still loved them because of me. Dumbledore was first my teacher, then my betrothed and my partner in this life and the next. I am terrified of spending the rest of my life missing him.” Minerva choked on her words and held a hand at the base of her throat trying to steady her breaths. “Our time together did not write a love story but I challenge you to find a truer friendship than what we had. Listen to me when I say this, because for fifty-eight years I would bring him a tumblr of Firewhisky whenever I could tell he spent the day mourning his sister. If we wish to resurrect Albus Dumbledore, we must do the same for Ariana. He will not return to us without her.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, comments keep me writing!


	37. NOT A CHAPTER - Just need readers help

Hey everyone... this is Van and I’m sort of at an impasse with this story. I have a plan for the three great sacrifices and I really was engaged in this but some comments tearing it all down for the non-con element really have me down and unable to move forward.

I’d like some feedback from any readers willing to give it on the direction of the story. What have you liked? What is there too much of? What is there not enough? Any requests for the future of things I could do my best to incorporate?

Please help me get excited for this story again.

Thank you.


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